Strengthening Bonds
by MosaicCreme
Summary: [Targeted Interference/Assassins Unveiled. Co-written with squigglysquid, creator of Ares. Takes place between chapters 15 and 16 of 'Targeted Interference: The Chase'] After Jasmine asked Ares to meet her on the Citadel to help with a job, the two of them spend a few days together, making mistakes and figuring each other out.
1. Testing Boundaries

**Testing Boundaries**

Jasmine watched while Isaac left and then locked the door behind him before heading for the balcony. She slid the door open, stepping out behind Ares, closing the door halfway behind her. She moved to stand a meter away from him, leaning her back against the railing and taking a deep breath. "Sorry for just dropping him in your lap."

He spun his lighter between his fingers with his free hand, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and blowing out wisps of smoke. "Part of me thinks you like bringing a second to our little 'meetings.'" His tone didn't betray anything, leaving her guessing at what he might be feeling behind the stoic facade.

She snorted, moving a little closer to him. Reaching out over the balcony, she wrapped her fingers around the cigarette in his hand, her lip twitching with a half smile as he tensed. He didn't stop her, though, so she lifted the cigarette from his hand before leaning back against the railing again. She looked at it for a second before taking a drag, the thick, almost acrid smoke filling her lungs, coating her tongue and throat. She grimaced, holding it back out to him. It tasted disgusting, but still, it said something for him let her have it, which was what she was really looking for. The symbolism.

He grunted, as if knowing her reaction without ever having to turn away his distant gaze from the horizon, and took it back. "Not what you expected?"

"Didn't know what to expect," she said, blowing the smoke back out and trying not to cough. "I use to smoke, when I was a teenager, but whatever the hell that is, it's definitely not the same plant." She took in a few breaths of fresh air, turning her attention back to his comment about their meetings. "To be fair, I didn't expect company the first time we met. I didn't know he was there. I might've even been avoiding him a little bit, which probably should've been enough to make me suspect he'd follow me."

Ares exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting as he seemed to watch the tendrils of smoke drift. "You two done dancing around each other? It was getting pretty disgusting watching you two act like an asari romance vid." He turned his head enough for her to see him smirk. "I was thinking I might have to excuse myself." He shrugged, jacket making a soft, rustling sound. "Or I could've just emptied my gizzard all over the table instead. Anything to get you two to stop ogling each other with 'wistful gazes' or some such shit."

She rolled her eyes, refusing to believe either she or Thane were ever so obvious. "We were not ogling each other with 'wistful gazes' or any other shit." She snorted when he gave her an unconvinced grunt. "But … yeah, we're together, if that's what you're asking. Besides, couldn't be any worse than the way Ray just looked at you." She hesitated, dreading the answer to her next question as she turned a little more towards him. "You gonna fuck my boss?"

"Depends." He flicked his lighter open and closed. "Is he a human who knows how not to mix business and pleasure?"

She groaned, letting her head loll back to look up at the pseudo-night sky. "Don't fuck my boss," she said, letting a little bit of a whine enter her voice. Turning her head to watch him from her peripherals, she added, "But to answer your question, I don't know him that well. I've only really known him for a couple of weeks. He took me on when I was still locked up, and as his first act, told me to take a month long vacation. So, he seems alright so far."

"That's right. Humans have this weird thing about keeping your sex lives private as if no one else in the galaxy likes to fuck." He stood up straighter and took a drag as she barked a laugh, pausing before blowing it out. "I take it you and your drell—whatever his name is—spent that time together. But him not being around makes me think there's more to you wanting me to keep my mouth shut about him with your boss."

"Trust me, I have no qualms fucking, talking about fucking, or listening to others talk about fucking. It's just … he's my boss." Shrugging, she turned to rest her forearms on the railing, letting her gaze roam over the bright lights of Silversun Strip. "We're still feeling each other out, still learning to trust one another. I took a risk bringing you in on this, if you two fuck, or get too personal otherwise, and it doesn't work out, I don't want that shit coming back to bite me in the ass." She waved a hand at nothing in particular. "I mean, you're both grown men, you're going to do what you're going to do, but I just hope you realize it might be my ass on the line. And honestly, I don't know either of you enough to vouch to one for the other how wise it'd be to put yourselves in such a vulnerable position."

She sucked in a deep breath. "As for Tannor—and please, I doubt Ares is your name, either—yeah, we spent my vacation time together. He's not around because he's not on the Citadel. We both have jobs and lives separate of each other, we're not going to be able to both be in the same place all the time. But no, I don't want to talk to Ray about him, because I don't know how he'd react." She waved her hand for his cigarette again, the lingering taste on her tongue growing on her a little. "It's one thing to admit to knowing a guy who might be able to shed some light on the Blackwatch case—which is pretty much all I told him, other than you'd be armed, a smartass, and a flirt—but it's something else entirely to admit to being romantically involved and invested in a freelancer."

"You're right," he said, handing her the cigarette, but nothing more.

She took a short puff from the black cigarette, his willingness to share with her helped to put her at ease. Blowing the smoke out slow, she looked at him, giving him her best cocky grin. "Usually am."

"I didn't say about what. Could be everything else you say is just—what's the saying—you blowing smoke out your ass." He took the cigarette back and finished it off before stamping it onto the railing and flicking the butt off over the edge.

"You didn't say what about because you know I'm right about it all." She hummed, her smile fading as she switched mental gears. "So, you know, even with us working together on this thing, I still need you to tell me what to expect from someone in Blackwatch. I have a feeling you're intimately familiar with the division."

He pulled out the scuffed box of cigarettes and took another one out, putting it between his mouth plates and holding it there as he spoke. "I am. And there's plenty you need to know. Maybe even your handler, too, depending on how involved he'll be." He lit the cigarette, flinching as always, even though he kept the flame turned down low.

"Thought so." She nodded more to herself than to him. "We'll go over it tomorrow. It's been a long day, I doubt I'd retain much right now." She let out a heavy sigh. "He's been making me get up at stupid o'clock in the morning for training. I think we're supposed to go over to the Armax Arena in the morning, you should come with us. It's kind of fun. He wants me to get used to more close combat situations against groups and less surprise kills on individuals."

"Alliance doesn't make that mandatory?" He looked to her before taking a drag.

She shrugged. "It wasn't a part of my training past basic. My last handler took on my training personally … basically just so he could get in my pants, I'm pretty sure. He focused me on other things. Stealth kills, crowd manipulation, infiltration …." She cocked her head to the side, gaze unfocusing as she thought back to her time spent with Leon. "Turns out, there's a lot he didn't do by Alliance standards," she said at last, her tone bitter.

"Good thing he's dead." He paused to take a puff and blew it out slow. "He wouldn't have served long as such a shit instructor in the Hierarchy."

"Yeah …." She rolled her head along her neck a little, loosening muscles already starting to tighten as the low simmer of anger she still carried towards Leon ramped up a little. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think his instruction was especially flawed. I'm not the best at what I do, but I do well enough, and there are certain tasks at which I excel."

"No one is 'the best', just better." He hummed, seemingly in thought, and then went quiet long enough to take a long drag from his cigarette. "Which leads me to a question. Why did you contact me?"

She turned her head to look at him fully. "Leon discouraged having contacts outside of the Alliance. It obviously didn't stop me from making a few friends in the business, but … Ray wants me to have my own, something separate from the Alliance." She narrowed her eyes a little, pursing her lips as she mulled it over. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why. Anytime I tell him something Leon did differently, he just says, 'I'm not Leon.' Which is cool, I guess. Not being Leon certainly wins him points." Shrugging, she pushed the thoughts of Leon away. "Anyway, this job came up, and he said he didn't have much on Blackwatch. I figure he's testing me, but I lucked out." She turned her attention back out at the Strip. "It made me think of you."

"And if you were wrong in thinking I had anything to do with Blackwatch?" His voice remained level, save for a hint of challenge.

She met his gaze again and gave him a playful grin. "I thought we already established my tendency to be right?"

"Didn't answer my question," he said, his voice flat, not giving her any hint to his line of thinking, which admittedly made her uneasy.

"I didn't make any promises to him." Keeping her voice level as she spoke, she shrugged. "If you didn't have a tie to Blackwatch, you'd still have more information on turians in general than either of us have. If you didn't want to tell us anything, or hell, if it offended you instead …" She tilted her head to the side and sucked her teeth. "... then I'd figure out a way to try to smooth things over with you and still do my job."

He grunted and flicked the mostly spent cigarette over the railing, making her cringe for the people down below, before turning back to her apartment. "Order me something to drink from whatever service you use. You're buying. Your choice to get some of your own."

She laughed, the gruff demand for a drink moving things back into familiar territory, and followed him back inside. "Sure, why not. Who needs sleep, right? I'm still young enough to get away with it."

"Humans and your need to sleep like the dead for nearly a quarter of the day," he said over his shoulder, not really looking at her as he took a heavy seat on the couch.

She rolled her eyes. "Turians and your need to criticize other species for not being finely-tuned, well-oiled machines." She walked past him to her laptop, logging back in and placed an order with the front desk's shopping service, ordering him what looked like the best dextro alcohol they advertised—a whiskey—and herself some spiced rum.

"I wasn't speaking for my species, just myself." He shrugged when she turned her attention back to him and leaned back in the couch, his size more apparent as he tried to get comfortable on the cushions.

No, you're just making snarky comments about my entire species.

She snorted, pulling her boots off as she propped her ass against a stool. Tossing them toward her bedroom door, she crossed the floor to sit sideways on the far end of the couch, tucking her legs up beneath her. "You're hardly the first turian I've met. Hell, you're not even the first turian I've discussed my panties with." She grinned, all teeth, hoping to get him to relax a little.

He snorted and scratched his mandible under his hood. "I'd be shocked if I was."

"Wait," she said, arching an eyebrow, "shocked if you were the first I've met, or the first I've talked about my panties with?"

Ares shrugged, his smirk obvious from beneath his hood.

She sucked on her teeth—well, she did want him to relax. "Hmmm. From anyone else, I'd say you think I'm a slut."

"And you know I'm not anyone else," he agreed with a slight nod. "Tell me, did you tell your C-Sec turian about your panties?" He flicked his mandible in an almost coy smirk, goading her.

Jasmine laughed, letting her head loll back a little before looking at him again. "Nah, I just made him use his height advantage, superior eyesight, and nifty visor to help me track Ray in the crowd." She waved her hand dismissively. "We didn't really say a whole lot to each other."

"And you didn't even repay him for his service." He made an audible tsk and gave her an exaggerated head shake. "I'm sure he wouldn't have given you a hard time if you told him the color, too."

Snorting, she shook her head, wondering what exactly made him think the cop gave her a hard time at all. "'Thanks, Officer Vakarian. By the way, I'm totally wearing black, lace panties. Just thought you should know.'" Her eyebrows twitched when Ares stilled, and she tilted her head to the side. "You know him?"

"I might know the Vakarian name," he said, tone low and the response vague enough to make her have to fight the urge to dig deeper.

"Hmmm. Well, I hope it doesn't mean you're going to kill off Garrus Vakarian. I kinda liked him, it would suck." She shifted on the couch, draping an arm over the back and dropping one of her feet back to the floor. "But seriously, you know not all turians are interested in humans anymore than all humans are interested in turians. Which is a shame, they really don't know what they're missing."

"I know perfectly about the insanity that is not being interested in my species. Really, it's your people's lost." He rumbled and smirked. "Every human I've met hasn't had any complaints."

She laughed, a teasing smile lingering on her lips. "Maybe they're just too intimidated by your looming, broody presence to complain." She waved a hand at his form as she spoke. "The hood doesn't help with making you look approachable …" She hesitated, her voice becoming more somber, softer. "... and it really doesn't cover the scars too well, either, if that's what you're after."

The atmosphere shifted, and she knew she'd hit a sore spot. She expected as much, though. She hoped he'd get she only meant it wasn't really necessary for him to wear, not around her, at least. She wanted to build more trust between the two of them, but it was a little hard to do when she couldn't see half the expressions he made. He stared at her, face cast in shadows, and yet his gaze felt cold. His mandibles didn't shift beneath the hood, nothing to tell her what he might be thinking. She held his gaze, unflinching, letting her statement linger until the door buzzer filled the room. Unfolding herself from the couch, she went to the door.

* * *

Ares watched Ramona's back as she went to the door, seething and holding back from clenching his fists. And he agreed to help the woman? He'd put trust in her since the beginning by not covering his real face in artificial plates, and she threw it back in his face. As far as he knew, it was he who went out of his way to show he wasn't just out to stab her in the back in person, that he wanted them to be on equal ground, and she still held everything close to her chest.

She even let another assassin follow her to Chora's in the beginning. One she obviously had a closer association with than most in their line of work. The next time, she brought her own damn handler, outnumbering Ares once more. Not much of the two situations spoke of trust on her part. He was starting to question offering information—and possible aid on the actual job—for nothing but his travel expenses paid.

The door opened to an asari attendant holding a tray laden with two large, unopened bottles of liquor. He easily recognized the light bronze of a turian whiskey and figured the other bottle contained some sort of levo alcohol that he wasn't familiar with. Whiskey wasn't really his first choice, but it had to do.

Not too many 'reputable' businesses carried the heavy shit he preferred.

"I have a delivery for Ms. Ramona Salazar?" The asari smiled and dipped her chin towards the elegant, silver tray in her hands. "One levo rum and one dextro whiskey? We've provided a set of tumblers, too."

"Thanks." Ramona nodded curtly and took the bottles, tucking one under her arm to grab the tumblers between her too-many-fingers. "Put it on my bill. And go ahead and add a tip for yourself, too."

The attendant grinned, seemingly beaming in joy, and Ares wondered just how much of it was genuine gratitude or a mask to convince Ramona that her 'generosity' wasn't expected from the beginning. Leave it to a place that most likely already had the Alliance paying out the ass to expect reward for doing their damn jobs. "Thank you, ma'am! You have a nice evening!" She scurried away as Ramona closed the door and headed back over with the alcohol in hand.

Sitting the tumblers and bottles of alcohol on the table, Ramona glanced at him before going to the kitchen. He heard her rummaging around in the freezer, and a moment later she returned with a bowl of ice. Reclaiming her seat, she broke the seal on the bottle of levo rum, twisting off the cap and tossing it on the table before filling her glass with ice.

Pouring the dark liquid over the ice, she sighed. "That sounded a lot shittier than I meant it." She put the cap back on the bottle and sat back, pulling her legs up onto the couch and bending her knees up so they hid half of her body. Wrapping an arm around her legs, she rested her glass on her knee, watching him. "Sorry, do whatever makes you comfortable."

Not one to believe that the first thing out of someone's mouth wasn't what they initially intended to say, Ares growled and jerked his mandibles angrily against his chin. "If I wanted to be 'approachable', I wouldn't walk around without artificial plates to conceal these." He waved towards his face and flexed the unscarred half of his mouth in disgust, growing more irritated by her flippant insult by the second. To attempt to tamp down on his fury, he lifted the bottle in his hand to his mouth and popped off the top with his teeth, spitting it out in the general direction of Ramona's table without breaking eye contact. "You think I don't know it doesn't do shit to cover them? Or that I'm just stupid enough to fool myself into thinking that?" He scowled at her and pulled back his hood to show her the rest of his hideously scarred face. "I walk around like this as a fucking show of trust in you, you inconsiderate child."

All expression had vanished from Ramona's face early on in his rage-fueled tirade. She sat deathly still save for a slow, steady and intentional rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the very slight tick of her jaw as their gazes stayed locked. Even his bared face did not phase the predator in her that sat coiled and ready to pounce. For once since knowing her, he saw just what the Alliance saw in her to lay their trust in her abilities as an assassin.

Still, he couldn't be convinced the woman sitting before him had it in her to be ready to get out of the shadow of her superiors, to come out as an assassin able to make a name for herself as one of the best. She had much to learn, starting with how to mask her insensitivities or it'd get her killed one day. As of then, she still didn't bring on that itch of caution he'd feel in dangerous situations.

When she spoke, the words came slow and void of any emotion. She no longer addressed him as a friend, but as nothing more than a contact at best, and adversary at worst. All obviously weighed on the direction of the conversation as she said, "It wasn't my intent to offend you, I apologise, as it is clear that was the case. Have a good night, Ares. If you're still interested, I'll contact you tomorrow with the details of when and where we can meet to further discuss the job."

Ares narrowed his eyes at the obvious dismissal and set the bottle down on the table with more force than necessary. Jerking his hood back over his head, he turned and headed for the door. The best he could offer the woman was to leave, and he'd still give her what she wanted to know out of principal and a desire to see Blackwatch take a hit—even if not by his own hand—but he'd be sure to lose her contact information after the job he promised was done.

He needed to find himself an outlet before he figured his revenge on Blachwatch wasn't worth dealing with Ramona. He needed to get into a fight, beat the shit out of someone, or find someone to fuck until they passed out and couldn't walk tomorrow.

* * *

Jasmine sucked in a slow, deep breath as the door closed behind him. Muscles tight, refusing to relax, she growled her frustration, but it didn't make her feel any better. Tipping her head back, she downed the rest of her glass of rum, slamming the cup down on the table before picking up the bottle and draining another couple of glasses worth. She sat there for a minute, elbows braced on her knees as she replayed the conversation in her head. She almost wanted to feel bad for offending him, but he turned complete jackass so fast … fuck him. Better she see what kind of person he really was sooner than later.

Hell, she should've decked him. Might've broken her hand on his thick skull, but damn it would've felt good. Who the hell did he think he was, calling her an inconsiderate child? Trust? He wanted to talk about trust? She reached out to him, introduced him to her handler—the one person around with authority over her ass and the power to send her straight back to jail if he felt the inclination—talked to him about her personal relationships, and brought him to the very place she sleeps at night …. How the hell did he expect her to know he'd normally wear fake plates, he never told her that shit.

Whatever. I need to get the fuck out of here.

Alcohol burning in the pit of her stomach, sending blood rushing through her, she pushed herself up from the couch and went to her room. Digging in her closet, she pulled out her tennis shoes and hoodie, sliding them both on and rolling her eyes at herself over the irony as she tugged the hood up over her face. "Fuck him."

Checking her pistol, she holstered it at her back and then made sure her knives were secure, too. She wished Thane was around, maybe convincing him to spar would help her blow off steam … or other things. She sighed, heading for the door and making her way out of the apartment. She stopped in the hall, glancing down toward the elevator, and after finding no sign of the asshole turian, she glanced down at Isaac's locked door.

She left Tiberius Towers and hopped in a taxi, wanting as far away from the glare of Silversun Strip as she could get. The flashy lights and even flashier people made her skin crawl. It didn't matter how far away from the streets of Santa Fe she got, no matter how hard she tried to clean herself up, she remained nothing more than a street rat scurrying for the shadows and clutching her weapons closer at the first sign of shit going south. And just like that, the old, familiar itch inside her veins crept up on her. The voice in the back of her head telling her only one thing would ever make it stop. Fuck that voice, too.

And yet, she found herself walking the catwalks outside of the warehouse where she killed Ryan Archer. The memory of the crates of red sand stacked up against the walls, all along the warehouse floor dug at her mind. She stopped, leaning over the railing and watched the empty warehouse, sucking shallow breaths in through her nose.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

Jasmine's head swiveled toward the sudden intrusion of sound, instantly spotting a kid she recognized right away as Mouse, hightailing it out of a nearby shop, heading straight for the ducts. Behind him, two men, easily five times the kid's size, gave chase. Adrenaline dumped into her system, giving her the high she'd been craving and fighting, and without a second thought, she grabbed the railing, lowering herself over the edge before dropping down the rest of the way.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ran, headed straight for the intercept. One of the men—who up close, looked easily more like six times Mouse's size and for some reason reminded her of Leon, only pissing her off more—pulled a pistol, starting to raise it toward Mouse. Before he took aim, she reached him, ramming her foot into his kneecap with a satisfying crunch. The man yelled, his leg buckling, dropping his center of gravity, and she jabbed her elbow into his spine, just between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling.

Kicking his pistol, it spun out across the Lower Wards, well beyond his reach. She spared half a heartbeat to glance in Mouse's direction, but he was gone from sight. Good. Turning, she barely had time to jerk her head back, avoiding a fist to her face as the second assailant closed in on her. Hopping back a step, she fell into a defensive stance, eyeing the man. He took another swing at her, and she ducked under his arm, continuing the movement to step behind him. Slamming her elbow against his lower back, hitting his kidney, she left him momentarily paralyzed as he gasped for breath. Taking advantage of the situation, she didn't stop, planting the sole of her foot into the back of his knee and pushed, forcing the joint to give. He stumbled forward and down, and she struck out at the base of his skull, the knuckle of her middle and index finger digging into the suboccipital man fell face first, probably breaking his nose on impact.

The first man started to scramble back to his feet, only to yell out in agony as his broken knee refused to hold his weight. Still, it didn't stop him from floundering toward his gun. "Fucking cunt."

Rage flared up inside of Jasmine, and she closed the distance between them, kicking him as hard as she could in his ribs. Fuck her training, and fuck him. Lips pulled back in a snarl, she swung again, aiming for his face when he rolled to his side, clutching at his ribs, gasping for breath. He managed to get out of the way of her foot flying at his face, but it only added fuel to her fire, and a second later she was on him, one fist pounding into him after the other, a vicious growl tearing through her throat.

"Jasmine!" The sheer panic in Mouse's voice ripped her away from her bloodrage, and her head snapped up, zeroing in on the threat.

Three more men ran towards her, and the other man she left sprawled out on the floor started to rouse. She pushed herself to her feet, sparing one last glance down at the bloody pulp of the Leon-esque man's face, some of her fury fading as she assessed the situation. They'd be on her in seconds, she didn't have time to run, and one of them already pulled a gun.

"Shit," she growled again, her hand moving to activate her tactical cloak. And here she thought she was just going to get away with kicking the shit out of a couple of asshats. But no, more idiots just had to show up, and someone would most certainly end up dead.

As the last man moved past the alley cutting in between the store and the warehouse, a shadow moved behind him, materializing into a recognizable shape a moment later. Before she fully registered the latest edition to her fuck-this-night party, Ares slit the man's throat. She didn't take the time to process her feelings on the matter, instead, she moved, drawing her pistol and changing her position as quickly as she could before the buffoon gaping at the spot she disappeared from decided to pull the trigger anyway.

The man made it to his feet, blood pouring out of his nose—what the hell, she'd call him Red—only to be met with the butt of her pistol slamming into his temple, dropping him once more. Her cloak gave out just as Ares kicked another guy in the family jewels, rounding behind him as he doubled over in agony. Grabbing the back of the man's neck, Ares pulled him up, hands wrapping around his skull before breaking his neck. Jasmine aimed her pistol at the man stuck, gawking in horror, his gaze flicking back and forth between the overgrown, turian death machine and the psycho-chick who could disappear. Her jaw twitched when his gaze met hers, the reality of his situation solidifying in his eyes, and she pulled the trigger. It was probably nicer than whatever Ares planned.

She lowered her weapon, staring at Ares, the gurgling gasps of the man who very much reminded her of Leon after the word 'cunt' left his mouth, the only sound breaking the silence. Ares kept his gaze on her as he wiped the blade of his knife off on his pants before tucking it away under his sleeve.

Jasmine pursed her lips just a little at the sign of his peaceful intentions towards her, holstering her pistol once more. Still, without turning away from the turian, she called out, "Mouse?"

A moment later, the duct a few meters away slid open, and the boy dropped down to the ground, his gaze on Ares—who apparently decided it was the perfect time for a smoke break—as he edged his way closer to her. When he got within her reach, he tore his gaze away from Ares and looked up at Jasmine, slightly shaken but otherwise as calm as ever despite the blood and gore surrounding them.

Reaching out, she ran her hand over the boy's head, despite knowing he hated it, just because she needed to reassure herself he hadn't been hurt. "Call C-Sec. Tell them there's dead bodies, but still a couple alive who need help. And … you didn't—"

"I didn't see anything, yeah, yeah. I know how this works." He frowned at her, smoothing his hair back down, but a moment later, his gaze softened. "Thanks, Jasmine."

She smirked. "Yeah, anytime, kid." Glancing up, she saw Ares already retreating from the bloody crime scene. Pulling Mouse in against her side, she squeezed his shoulder. "I have to go."

"Yeah, later." He lifted a hand, giving her a half-assed wave.

Turning, she started off at a jog, closing some of the distance between herself and the turian before slowing to a brisk walk. Last thing she wanted was for him to decide to face the sound of her rapid approach with a weapon out. He slowed down a little as she caught up, moving up to walk at his side. She glanced at her bloodstained hands instead of him, flexing her fingers, checking to see if anything seemed broken. They definitely hurt, and they were already swelling, but they didn't feel broken. The the knuckles of her middle and ring finger on her right hand were scraped, and she saw a laceration on the index finger of her left hand, but she knew most of the blood belonged to the man she'd beaten.

Still, there'd be traces of her DNA on the guy. Nothing she could do about it, though. They were too exposed, and there were too many bodies for her to try to dispose of before someone called C-Sec. The longer she stuck around, the more at risk of being caught and identified she'd be. Plus, two of the guys were still alive, and once the last man fell, they were no threat to her, nothing for her to justify killing the men.

Damn it, what am I going to tell Isaac?

She glanced up at Ares, still annoyed with him but willing to try to smooth things over if he was. "Thanks, and fuck you."

He hummed, letting the sound continue as he said, "Fuck you, too. And don't mention it."

She smirked, walking beside him in silence for a moment. "Sorry, about earlier."

Ares took a drag before shrugging and releasing his breath. "Same goes for myself. So we're even."

Glancing up at him again, she tried to catch his eye. Grinning wider when he looked at her, she said, "I was going to say I owe you one, but I'll take even."

He grunted. "I still want that bottle of whiskey."

She shrugged. "I'm sure as hell not going to drink it."

He chuckled and took another drag. "Don't tell me you're dextro sensitive."

"Nope," she said, turning her attention back out to the Wards. "Just think most dextro stuff tastes like shit."

Ares shrugged again, putting his hand back in his pocket, and she wondered if the deliberate slowness of the movement was for her benefit, his way of saying he didn't intend to pull a weapon on her. "Not drinking it for the taste, but okay."

She chuckled. "Fair point. Suppose if I wanted to get drunk bad enough, and that's all there was …. So, if you don't have a place set up … I've got a spare room."

He looked down at her, and when she begrudgingly returned his gaze a moment later, she saw confusion on his face. She forced her shoulders into a shrug, putting as much indifference as possible into the gesture, unwilling to let him see the pain his earlier words caused her and just how much she extended herself with the offer. Just in case … just in case things really had gone to irreparable shit between them despite his coming to her aid.

"If you want to crash at my place while you're here." She looked back out over the Wards, hearing the sound of C-Sec sirens in the distance. "Don't have anything for you to eat there, though, so we should probably stop somewhere and grab a few things."

He stayed silent for a long moment before he rumbled and said, "I don't sleep much, so I might be in and out at all hours. If you're a light sleeper, you might think this was a bad idea."

She was a light sleeper, and he probably damn well knew it, probably was one himself. She shrugged again. "Offer stands."

"Then I'll be sure to get myself some shit to eat," he said with a thrum in his chest.


	2. Confessions

**Confessions**

Ares found sleep harder to come by in the nice bed. He was used to too hard, lumpy, or—on the opposite side of the spectrum—too worn so that any kind of support was nonexistent. He even tried sitting up as he often did when not sleeping with someone he just fucked, but nothing seemed to work. He tried blankets, no blankets, pillows, no pillows, laying, and sitting. It wasn't until he gave up, went for a walk and a drink, then returned and tucked himself into the closet where it was nice and dark, cramped, and relaxing that he got any sleep.

He even managed to wake before… whatever she really wanted him to call her after his overhearing a new name last night from the duct kid. He wasn't sure whether or not it was normal for her to sleep in so late, but chalked it up to human sleep schedules. It seemed even human assassins needed quite a bit of sleep. Not wanting to go out of his way to be loud, he stuck to his room and worked through the workout regimen that was supposed to help ease the taut rigidity of his scar tissues.

Just before he was starting to get bored enough to decide to throw out any sort of decency he was attempting to show, Ares heard the beeping of an alarm—hers, no doubt. He was sure the walls wouldn't be thin enough to hear any neighbors, despite how comfortable that flaw would have felt. Stopping in his work at rubbing oil into his bad shoulder, he listened and heard her grumble after a moment of the insistent chiming, then a padded thump. He counted the seconds before hearing the sound of running water with the slight echo of a large room. He figured the apartment must have a master bath, not surprised at the added amenity.

Finally comfortable with no longer having to try and be quiet, Ares got up from his rest on the floor and capped the oil. Grabbing his loose hood and forgoing the rest of his thin armor he'd usually wear beneath, he pulled it over his head and stepped out in his hood and more comfortable pants he used for sleep when he got the opportunity to relax. He took up one of his pistols on his way out and slipped the, smaller than regulation, weapon into the compartment on his sleeve. As he made his way into the kitchen and opened the cabinets in search for something of his to quickly prepare and eat, he heard a knock on the door, not the soft tap of one of the apartment attendants and not the heavy, demanding bang of any authority. He took the sound as something usual for Ramona—Jasmine, whatever—and left whoever to wait for her. Let her handle it.

Ares tore open the packaging of a premade dish that, he assumed, was meant to be some dextro meat in sauce. He didn't care if it tasted good or not, and he really only bought it for the ease of access and consumption. It was supposed to be heated, but he just didn't want to bother and just used the tip of his second finger's talon to spear a piece and eat it.

Almost finished with his meal, he heard the light swish of the door and tensed, setting the food down quietly and pulling out his pistol. He pulled his mandibles in tight, cursing that he couldn't even get a break in the apartment of another assassin—and their handler just next door—he stepped closer to the fridge to use as cover between himself and the door. Angling his head to see the entry with his good eye, he caught sight of Ramona's handler, Ray.

Pistol in hand and taking careful steps in a calculated approach, Ray's eyes scanned the apartment. Ares flicked his mandibles once before internally grumbling and lowering his weapon, making himself obvious to the man's eyes.

Biotics licked around Ray for half a second before he stopped and asked, "Where is she?"

"I'd assume the bathroom," Ares said, stepping out from behind the fridge and keeping his gun down, and not out in threat. Best to still keep a weapon at hand, though, because he certainly didn't know the man despite knowing his subordinate.

Ray eyed Ares for a moment before moving toward Ramona's bedroom door, not quite turning his back. Opening his omni-tool, he glanced down long enough to pull up whatever program he was looking for before holding the holographic display in front of her locked bedroom door. When the lock turned green, he opened the door, gaze still on Ares. "Ramona?" he called out, his voice lifting above the sound of running water.

The water stopped, and a moment later, the sound of another door hissing open filled the air. "I'm up, I'm up."

Ray seemed to relax, putting his pistol away, and Ares followed suit to show his own intent not to turn it into a fight. "You didn't answer the door or my call. Not cool."

"Sorry … I was up late." Ramona's voice sounded muffled despite the door being opened. "Make me coffee and breakfast and I'll apologize profusely once I'm dressed?"

Ares picked up the package of what remained of his food and stepped out of the kitchen to let the man work. He admitted to not understanding the dynamic of the superior officer making their subordinate food, but perhaps the Alliance just trained their assassins differently.

Ray looked at the ground, shaking his head. "You do realize I'm not your man, right?"

"Please?"

"Alright … but then maybe you can tell me why I heard about someone matching your description beating the shit out a couple of guys before killing a few others last night." He glanced at Ares. "With the help of one 'huge-ass, motherfucking turian.'"

Silence was his only answer. Ray's attention on Ares spoke of some sort of expectation for response, so he shrugged and put a piece of questionable meat into his mouth. "I was in the neighborhood."

"Uh huh." Ray stepped out of Ramona's bedroom doorway, letting the door slide closed behind him and made his way to the kitchen.

Ares left him to make whatever it was the two of them were going to eat and sat on the couch so that he could watch Ray and the apartment, washing down his own meal with some of the whiskey still left on the table. A few minutes later, she came out of her bedroom, dressed in tight-fitting, black pants, a black tank top—just as snug—and the same training shoes she had on the night before. Why so many human females he'd seen chose to wear such outfits made Ares wonder how something so tight could be comfortable around such soft and squishy bits, but he couldn't say he didn't appreciate the view it provided. She had a sweater tied around her waist and her hands wrapped. She glanced at him before making her way to the breakfast bar and slid onto one of the stools, tucking her hands down in her lap. Obviously tense, she didn't speak, just watched Ray as he put on the coffee.

As the strong scent of the coffee drink Ares is used to seeing humans drink in the morning filled the apartment, he grunted at the sight that seemed closer to a child trying to avoid a parent's reprimanding than a subordinate that obviously went against some sort of Alliance regulation. While not that surprised about it existing—Blackwatch had the same kind of thing—he wasn't really sure what a 'silent treatment' was supposed to teach her. Turians would speak their minds, administer the demotion or extra duties, and then be over with it, but humans seemed to deal on verbal impasses and expectations to admit guilt.

Ray turned around, leaning his back against the counter and looked at her. "What happened?"

She sat in silence for a couple of seconds before beginning to speak. "I went for a walk, saw a couple of guys chasing after a kid, one of them pulled a gun out. I kicked their asses. More showed up, armed." She sucked in a deep breath, pursing her lips, and started talking again as the air seeped out of her. "Nemos was nearby and decided to step in. We ended the confrontation quickly, and after I made sure the kid was okay, we left."

Ray watched her for a moment longer, his expression blank. After a few seconds he nodded his head. "We'll talk about it more later." Then, he turned around and just started making her breakfast as if that was the end of it.

"Sorry I didn't answer the door or your calls." She shifted a little, propping an elbow on the counter and using the hand to rub at her forehead. "I was still in the shower, and I didn't think to ask Nemos to answer the door for you."

Ares wondered when he became a door man, but he supposed it would have been better than the man just walking in ready and looking for someone to shoot. At least Ray's appearance didn't turn into a mess and Ares' own meal wasn't interrupted all that much.

Ray scoffed, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You call that profusely?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Oh, most kind and benevolent Ray, I do so regret not answering the door or your calls when you so clearly were worried about my wellbeing. I am a wretched, wretched woman. You have my sincerest apologies, I do so hope you can forgive me."

Ray laughed, the sound weak compared to what Ares heard from him the night before. Shaking his head, he laid thick strips of levo bacon into a pan, letting out an instant sizzle as the fat began to cook. After a minute, Ramona slid down off of her stool and rounded the bar, moving into the kitchen. She opened a cabinet, taking down two mugs and began filling them with coffee from the still working machine. The atmosphere remained charged between the two in Ares' feeling Ramona's attempt at levity hadn't completely assuaged her handler's opinions on exactly what she and Ares did last night.

She sat one down on the counter next to Ray, holding the other between both hands and blew across the surface, her gaze on the other human. "It was Mouse, one of the duct rats I told you about. I couldn't let them kill a kid, and certainly not one I know." She took a sip from her mug. "Things did get out of hand, I own that. I'll file the report myself, if you want."

Ray turned to look at her, his face hidden from Ares. His voice didn't give much away either when he said, "We'll talk about it later."

She nodded, holding his gaze until he looked back at the pan in front of him. Carrying her cup back to the breakfast bar, she sat back down.

After the scents of the two's breakfast rose to a point that it filled the apartment—at least to Ares—Ray fetched two plates from the cabinets and dished out the bacon and something yellow and smelling slightly of sulfur to Ares's nose. The two sat side by side at the counter, though Ray turned enough to still have an eye on Ares. Not too surprised at that, Ares just sat by and drank to wet his parched throat as he watched the two humans eat in relative silence.

The passive-aggressive bullshit was starting to get ridiculous. Ares had no idea why humans seemed so willing to employ the tactic. Many species knew and used it, but he'd never seen a species do it as much as humans.

Halfway through her meal, Ramona glanced over her shoulder at Ares. "Did you want to come with us to the Arena?"

"Depends. What skill are you planning to exercise?" Ares was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to do some of the agility in small spaces humans were pretty good at, being as big as he was. Granted, he wasn't sure many turians were flexible enough for practices of crawling through tight cavities to get to their target, but his own size made it particularly difficult, and his scarring was tight enough as it was without him needing to try and stretch it out even more than usual.

Ray smiled, turning his attention to Ares. "I had planned on simply raising the number of enemies to deal with on her." He bobbed his head, gaze shifting to Ramona. "But I think we might try something a little more intense today."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Do we have to?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Not if you don't think you can handle it."

She narrowed her eyes. "I can handle it."

Standing, Ares took his bottle and trash to the kitchen and tossed the empty package in the disposal. "Just don't expect me to fit into tiny places or try and test my flexibility and I'm in for whatever you have planned."

Ray smirked. "I bet you are."

"Jesus Christ, don't start again." Ramona shook her head. "I'm _so_ not okay with my boss fucking my friends. Find your own fuck buddies."

Ares chuckled at her, masking his surprised, yet pleased, purr at hearing her thoughts on his and her particular relationship, and shrugged. Smirking, he said, "I don't know. Pulling a gun on me is my type of foreplay."

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze locking on Ray. "You came in with a weapon drawn?"

He shrugged. "You didn't answer the door or my calls."

She blinked a couple of times before grinning. "Awwww, you really do like me. My hero."

Ray laughed, that time sounding more genuine. "Shut up, it's my job to cover your ass."

"Uh huh," she said with raised eyebrows.

"It is a fine ass," Ares agreed, leaning back against the counter and bringing the bottle to his mouth to drink some of the whiskey, its flavor starting to grow on him.

Ramona snorted, but winked at Ares. "I know."

"Keep teasing me with those outfits and you might have to kick me out."

She looked down at her clothes. "Down boy, they're just for better range of motion."

"Right," Ares agreed, pointing to her with his finger and smirking. "And I'd be willing to test that flexibility anytime."

Her grin slowly widened as she met his gaze again, leaning a little closer against the bar separating them. She lifted both eyebrows as Ray chuckled, and her voice turned to a low, sultry purr as she said, "I know."

"Yes, but can you handle my reach?" He growled and lowered his vocals. "Or does my size intimidate you?"

"Not. Even. A. Little." She sat back upright again, voice shifting back to its usual tone. "Too bad you'll never find out."

Ares sighed wistfully, full well knowing that. "Shame. Guess you'll be the unobtainable one."

She laughed. "Just makes you want me more, doesn't it?"

Chuckling, he smirked to her. "Eh. I like the challenge."

* * *

Jasmine watched Ares as Isaac moved to the sign in kiosk, gun case resting against her thigh. Ares decided to apply prosthetic plates to his face before they left her apartment, and she hoped it wasn't related to their argument the night before. Having had time to process his statements, no matter how shittily they were delivered, she realized he really did mean it when he said he'd left them off for her benefit, a sign of trust.

Her hands hurt like hell, and regret plagued the back of her mind. Not regret for saving Mouse, of course, but regret for letting herself lose her cool the way she did. She let things go too far, used the poor idiot, who had the unfortunate luck of reminding her of Leon, to take her aggression out on, causing him unnecessary pain and suffering. Her final blows weren't targeted at key points to disable a larger enemy, and they weren't intended to kill him, either. She intended to make him hurt, make him suffer, and it left her feeling a little sick to her stomach. And because she wasted time beating the shit out of him, people actually ended up dead. It wasn't who she was, not her style.

She smiled at Ares when the agitated flick of his mandible reminded her she was staring at him. Glancing at Isaac, she turned her gaze back to Ares and jerked her head toward her handler. Ares hummed softly, turning his attention over Isaac's shoulder at the kiosk. She knew the second he saw 'BioticBabe' pop up on the screen because he let out a sharp, bark of laughter, sounding more amused than she's ever heard or seen him. Isaac glanced over his shoulder, a grin on his face as he stepped away from the console.

Jasmine chuckled, and moved up to the kiosk. "Imagine how surprised I was." She glanced over her shoulder at Ares, lifting an eyebrow before logging in as 'TellMeNow360'. Stepping out of the way, she waved her hand at the console for Ares to take his turn.

"You know," he said as he took her place and began to type. "Makes a bit of sense, considering."

Jasmine snorted. "I never would've imagined someone like Ray while reading 'BioticBabe's' posts."

Ares hummed as 'ThisGuy800' appeared on the screen. "Think about it. What better way to hide your identity than be a complete opposite?" He shrugged and looked at Jasmine, then her handler. "Ready whenever you both are."

"No, I get it, completely." She started walking toward the stairs. "I totally had an image of a nineteen to twenty something, simple-minded, white girl in my head."

Isaac tilted his head back, laughing. "Good, that's what I had in mind when I made the account."

Ares chuckled as he followed down the stairs. "Although, it does make me wonder just how many users are really conspiracy theorists like they say. Or if all of us are just bullshitting each other."

"You met 'YouDon'tKnow', didn't you?" She glanced over her shoulder, back up the stairs at Ares as she took the last step down.

He shrugged again, rolling his shoulders. "I heard somewhere it's impolite to talk about bed partners when you're trying to get into someone else's pants."

Jasmine snorted. "Right," she said, dragging the word out.

Isaac led the way over to the next console, and she sat down her gun case, leaning it against her leg as she watched the large screen displaying the various options for the match. Her eyes narrowed as he flipped through the console, the new choices popping up on the screen. In the past, he had them facing six, unarmored enemies per round, wielding the same weapons as they had. His idea of 'more intense' was apparently to triple the enemies, give them armor, Medi-gel, extra ammo, and heavy weapons. At least he didn't deny her the use of Medi-gel or spare ammo. She bit back a groan before it escaped her lips.

 _Fuck me._

Turning to her, he said, "Don't get shot, and try to keep up. I'll be keeping track."

She plastered a smile on her face and gave him a mock salute, earning her a warning twitch of his eyebrow. "You're the boss."

"Yes, I am." Isaac smirked at her, moving toward the next area where they would put on their sensors. "Don't forget it."

Jasmine sucked on her teeth a moment, wondering if Ares might find it difficult getting the sensors to stick against his scars, but she figured he'd make do. Scooping up a box of sensors from the shelf, she tucked them under her arm before retreating to one of the private rooms. She stripped down to her underwear and started applying the sensors, her thoughts drifting back to the men she fought the night before. Her stomach roiled, and she sucked in a deep breath, finishing off the sensors before getting dressed again.

 _Jesus Christ, I need some serious therapy._

She snorted, picking her gun case back up again. It'd make for a seriously interesting conversation to have with a shrink.

 _So, I beat the shit out of some guy last night because I was already pissed off at my friend. The guy threatened a kid I care about, and he called me a cunt, so he kinda deserved it. Oh, yeah, and he also looked like a man I killed a few months ago who I use to fuck … and was my boss. Did I mention I kill people for a living? No? Oh, well, yeah, I do. I hope that's cool. This is confidential, right?_

Smiling to herself, she left the stall, making her way back out to the lobby to change her ammo over to the fake shit used inside the simulator. Ares already stood at the shelf, stuffing extra ammo into his pockets. A moment later, a door next to her slid open, and Isaac stepped out, moving to the shelf to do the same. They worked in silence, and she knew the other two were already switching mental gears, just the same as her.

Once they were ready, Isaac lead them through the door into the simulator grounds. Just as every other time they'd gone there together, he'd rented out the space, paying to have it closed to the audience and the live broadcast cameras. Instead, anyone tuned into Armax Arsenal Arena would be watching recaps of the top matches over the last week. She wondered if they lost customers thanks to Isaac's idea of her special training time.

The battleground simulation he'd chosen looked like one of the back alleys on Omega. Rundown buildings filled the area, greasy, filthy alleyways breaking up the space. Interesting choice. She spotted the orange, flame-like spawn points, and started moving, putting as much distance between herself and the mix of Eclipse, Blue Suns, and Blood Pack mercs who would soon be filling the area. She glanced over her shoulder as she jogged, Isaac and Ares already gone from her sight.

Scrambling up a ladder, she bunkered down behind a low wall and readied her sniper rifle. Silencer already in place, she adjusted her scope, lining up her shot where she expected the first of the mercs to appear and waited as the feminine VI's voice counted down to the start of the match. An asari materialized out of the orange flames, and Jasmine adjusted, taking aim at a spot between the baby blue eyes and pulled the trigger. The virtual asari's eyes widened, and she stumbled back before falling to the ground, violet blood starting to spill from her head.

A loud bark of fire tore through the air, making Jasmine's jaw twitch in surprise. Behind the asari, Jasmine saw a batarian fall in a similar fashion, and she knew the shot must've been from Ares' modified rifle he seemed so proud of. She smirked, adjusting her aim to take a shot at a salarian before the VI wisened up and sent the mercs scrambling for cover. Her finger flexed, but before the sniper rifle fired, biotic energy lifted the Salarian off his feet and flung him across the arena, making him slam into a wall before dropping to the ground. Half a heartbeat later, the salarian twitched, not getting back up. She turned her scope, looking at him, and realized he was already dead.

Pulling her eye from the scope, she scanned the area, keeping her head low behind the wall. A second later, she caught a flash of yellow armor as an asari changed cover, and Jasmine put her eye back to her scope, shifting her rifle's aim. The sounds of Ares' gun barked again, and a turian tumbled back out of cover, sprawled out on the ground. Jasmine waited, listening to the thrum of biotics and weapons' fire as she watched the spot the asari hid, knowing it was only a matter of time before her pretty, little, blue head ducked back out of cover. The second she did, Jasmine took the shot. Armor didn't do a whole lot of good without a helmet.

A krogan shifted into her view, and Jasmine adjusted, lining up the shot, but before she pulled the trigger, Ares' rifle barked again, making the krogan jerk. Before she adjusted for the movement, Ares fired again, ripping off a chunk of the krogan's head plate in the process. She'd never seen a krogan's eyes grow so wide. For a second, she almost thought it wasn't enough, but she knew the look in someone's eyes when their lights went out for good. The krogan listed to the side, falling over with a thump heard between shots.

* * *

Taking a moment to toss out his spent heat sink and reload another, Ares rumbled as the rush of battle swam through his veins. It had been too long since actual combat, Blackwatch being a special forces unit that just so happened to be skilled at clandestinely killing people. Maybe with a bit of doing the dirty work the Hierarchy was too lazy to actually do through legitimate means.

Ares lined up his good eye to his scope, rifle resting on a tall stack of crates as he used the barrier as cover. He waited to see where Ramona would aim, seeing a salarian drop from a well-placed shot, and targeted an asari flaring blue in a futile attempt to—well, Ares wasn't quite sure what the VI was expecting beyond a possible scare tactic or preparation to attack an enemy it thought was there, but easily lost track of. Odds were that was Ray playing with them, if Ares had to guess. He wouldn't put it past the man to have a little fun.

When he fired, turning the fake asari's head into a beautiful flourish where the simulation tried to make due without real blood. He cocked his rifle before lifting his head, aware of the positions of hostiles far enough away from his position to give him the chance to push forward. Keeping his rifle close, he prepared for a quick—albeit messy—shot should his anticipation for the enemies' movements be wrong.

Ramona's own position was forward and slightly to the right of his direction, so, with an idea in mind, he turned for it. He took a shot at a turian when he reached the ladder below her position and bunkered down behind a low wall, close enough to get her attention if he called out, but out of her line of sight.

"Ramona," he said, looking towards the top of the ladder. She should be able to hear him so long as she wasn't so wrapped up in sighting and dropping enemies.

A moment later—and just as he was starting to wonder just how much louder he should be to get her attention—she peered around the edge of the wall beside the ladder and glanced down at him with a raised brow. Good enough acknowledgement for him.

"I'm moving up, switching weapons." Collapsing his rifle, he grabbed his favorite, and heavier, pistol from his hip. Ramona jerked her head once in a nod before disappearing from view once more.

As suspected, when he took a look at the field before him, he found that the enemies had moved closer to their position. He took note to suggest comm units next time, before waiting for Ramona's rifle to go off and took it as his cover to move. Taking the ladder with large strides, he vaulted over the short wall opposite the ladder from her position.

"You people need comms." Checking over his cover, he fired at a salarian between the eyes and watched him drop.

She smirked, lining up another shot. "Tell Bossman, not me." Her finger flexed on the trigger, her shot muffled by the silencer, then, a moment later, she fired again. A human dropped.

"Well," he said, reaching into the compartment of his pants on his hip and pulling out a grenade. "Let's just assume your 'Bossman' switched to ranged." Peering over the top of his cover, he waited for any sign—biotic or weapons' fire—to give a vague clue of Ray's position. When he saw the telltale glow of biotics wrap around a human and lift him, followed by the ring of a rifle shot, Ares snorted. "Yeah. He's good."

Bouncing the grenade in his hand once, Ares pressed the large trigger to set it and lobbed it into the fray. He heard it thump on the concrete and the mingle of curses from the mercs below before there was a split second of hurried shuffling and a sudden blast of the grenade going off. He smirked at the simulated cries of pain from below and pulled out his pistol to continue the fight. Similar to before, he waited for the sound of Ramona's rifle before lifting to take sight over his barrier.

He lined up a shot at a closing in merc, humanoid in shape, but wearing a helmet. Flicking his mandible in both aggravation and relief that it wouldn't really be an easy fight with dumb VI enemies running around with their weakest spots unarmored, he adjusted his shot. He dropped his pistol from targeting the merc's head to just below the chin of his helmet, firing at the unguarded neck and sending holographic 'blood' all over the place just before the merc flickered out. Looking Ramona's way, he noticed her watching him, expression definitely one of cataloging his tactics, before she returned to her own weapon.

He paused his own assault to catch what she had planned for their enemies and purred when he saw another mercenary, Eclipse, fall to a shot hitting directly below the helmet, tearing out the salarian's neck. Chuckling, he waited for her to press her back to her cover and switch heatsinks before speaking. "Nice shot."

Ramona grunted noncommittally and a light blush bloomed across her cheeks. She seemed flustered, embarrassed, but not proud, and Ares wondered just who the hell trained her not to understand the praise of one soldier to another for an impressive move in combat. Perhaps it was just a human thing. Turians took acknowledgment to an adjustment in combat as approval, not whatever it was Ramona felt to make her react in the way she had. He'd be sure not to bring it up again, though. Not if he wanted her to be able to stick to the fight and not feel put off by what he says.

The battlefield wasn't for warring emotions.

Just as Ares was starting to wonder where and what the hell Ray was doing, he glanced out to the field to see a krogan freeze, wrapped in the flowing blue of a biotic Stasis. At that range, Ares' pistol wouldn't do the damage needed to drop the krogan once the Stasis wore off, so he dropped his sights to an incoming LOKI mech, aiming for the glowing red lights of its head and firing. It jerked as its head exploded and fell just in front of the cover of a human who stumbled out, leg bleeding from a shot to the thigh Ramona was sure to have made by the sound near Ares' own position. Not a moment later, the merc fell to her second shot aimed to the head. The krogan ahead seemed to shake off the Stasis, but he only managed to turn to search for the source of the attack before Ray fired once to tear through the merc's armor, then another to lodge between the krogan's eyes.

As the krogan dematerialized before hitting the ground, the feminine—and sounding completely out of place in the middle of a battle as active as that—VI announced the end of the round and start of the opportunity to gather more ammunition to prepare for the next. Holstering his pistol, Ares stood and headed for the ladder to find a different position, stopping beside Ramona to ask, "You good on sinks?"

"No, don't have as many pockets as you," she said with a grin, glancing down at her skin-tight outfit. Just then, the orange glimmer of an enemy activation sequence popped up next to them, trapping her between a wall, the activation sequence, and him. Her eyes widened, and she shoved her hand against his keel, pushing him back. "Go!"

"Fucking Spirits," he grumbled under his breath and tossed an unactivated grenade towards her, figuring she'd understand the offer once she found some damn cover. Stepping back towards the ladder, he waited long enough to shoot and take out the first materialized enemy before sliding down the ladder.

* * *

Jasmine unlocked her door and then froze, the sudden, unexpected weight and warmth of Isaac's hand dropping down on her shoulder bringing her to a full stop. She sighed, glancing over to Ares. "Go on in, I'll be back in a few minutes."

He shrugged, stepping inside and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes just as the door slid closed. Isaac dropped his hand, and when she looked at him, he jerked his head toward his apartment door. She nodded, knowing 'later' just arrived. Trailing behind him a little ways down the hall, she waited while he unlocked his door and followed him inside.

Isaac turned on the lights, moving into the living room and sat his gun case down on the table before taking a seat on the couch. He glanced at her, and despite telling herself she didn't care what he thought, she felt the sting of shame, seeing the disappointment in his gaze. Leaning back, he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and threaded his fingers together, resting his hands against his abdomen. "Is Mouse okay?"

Her eyebrow twitched before she schooled her expression, shifting her weight to hold her sniper rifle case wedged against her hip. "Yeah, I got there before he was hurt."

Isaac nodded, sucking in a deep breath. "I like you, Shepard. So, please, believe me when I say I really don't want to see you fuck up again. What you did last night was reckless. If I hadn't been on the Citadel and in a position to make the C-Sec report disappear …."

She swallowed, refusing to turn her gaze away from his. "I know. I took things too far. I won't say I'm sorry for keeping those assholes from killing a kid over a few pilfered goods, but …."

"But?" He arched an eyebrow.

"But, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I acted outside of the parameters of my training." She licked her lips, working up saliva in her dry mouth. "I caused injuries beyond what was necessary to incapacitate, and I remained on the scene not only long enough to be seen, but for back up to arrive. People died who didn't need to die, and even if they weren't all by my hand, that's on me. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Isaac watched her for a moment in silence, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be the subject of his scrutiny, they'd been getting along so well—forming what she thought was a friendship, even. He sighed. "Why did you let your emotions get the better of you?"

She shrugged a little, gaze finally leaving his only to wander aimlessly around his apartment. "Nemos and I had a disagreement. He took off, I was pissed. My mind started to … wander to things I'd rather not think about, so I left to clear my head. It didn't work out so well, though. I still felt really agitated when I saw those guys chasing Mouse."

After a long minute of silence, Isaac said, "I think I've been really patient with you, and I've worked hard to show you that you can trust me. What aren't you telling me?"

Jasmine dropped her gaze to the floor just in front of her feet and pursed her lips. "One of the guys …." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "One of the guys reminded me of Leon."

He sighed, pushing himself up from the couch, and she looked at him, trying to gauge his intent. Staring at her a moment, he crossed the floor to stand in front of the balcony door, crossing his arms over his chest, back to her. "I'm guessing he's the man in the hospital with a giant bruise for a face." He let the statement linger when she didn't respond. "What's it going to take for you to put Leon behind you?" he asked, his voice soft, almost sad to her ears.

"I don't know," she said, and the moment the words left her mouth, she knew it to be the God's honest truth.

Hanging his head, he stayed like that for a few seconds before turning back to face her. "Your pay will be docked to cover the medical bills for those two who survived last night. You're going to look into the three men who didn't. You're going to find their families, their friends, and you're going to learn about the lives you stole. They weren't yours to take—or his, but I'm not responsible for him. You're going to find a way to pay restitution to their families without endangering the Alliance or your identity, and you're not going to forget them. Ever."

Unshed tears bit at the edges of her eyes, burning like fire. "Yes, sir."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he shook his head, his body language shifting back to something less distant and more familiar to her as he leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other. "I'll ignore that slip." He jerked his head toward the door. "Go on. Apparently you have a guest to entertain."

"I'm sorry, Isa—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "You already said that, Shepard. I don't need to hear it again. What I need from you, is for you to think before you act next time."

She sucked in a deep breath and swallowed against the knot in her throat. Nodding, not trusting her voice to say anything else—and what else could she say?—she turned and started walking toward the door.

"Shepard?"

She stopped, looking back over her shoulder.

"You did good today." He nodded, but without his usual smile, the words didn't carry the same impact they might've otherwise.

She forced a smile on her face anyway. "Thanks." Opening the door, she hurried out, wiping at the tears starting to well up enough to spill over her lids. She stopped in front of her door, scrubbing a palm over her face and took a few steadying breaths before going inside.

Ares lingered out on the balcony, the door left half-open behind him. She desperately wanted to climb in the shower, wash away the stink and itch of sweat dried on her skin. She also desperately wanted to sleep for about twelve hours and eat a pint of ice cream, washing it down with the rest of the bottle of rum still sitting on her coffee table. Instead, she took a seat at the breakfast bar and began disassembling her sniper rifle for cleaning, losing herself in the motions.

Halfway through, the balcony door slid open the rest of the way, and she glanced up, watching Ares close the door behind him again before turning her attention back to her work. Still, she tracked him in her peripherals as he moved throughout the apartment on silent feet, making his way into her kitchen to riffle through the cabinets. He pulled out a box of … whatever in the hell he'd bought to eat, probably more xemna—she wouldn't say it looked much like food to her—setting it on the counter while he continued his search. She wasn't sure what he looked for, but he didn't ask, so she didn't offer to help. A moment later, he'd found a pan and put it on the stove, dumping the bluish contents into the pan before turning on the burner. The smell of it didn't sit right in her nostrils, but it wasn't exactly repulsive, either.

"So, what do you think of Ray?" Having finished cleaning, she began re-assembling her sniper rifle.

Not looking back to her, keeping his attention on his food, he asked, "Professionally, or personally?"

"Either. Both."

He hummed before glancing over his shoulder with his good eye. "He'll train you right, get you comfortable with what the Alliance _apparently_ didn't think you needed to know to do in case shit went sideways. He moves well on the field and his biotics seem stable, but I wouldn't know by experience about those." Turning back to his food, he used his scarred hand to flip it over. "Personally? I don't have too many options. Still too soon to tell."

She grunted, snapping on the last piece and holding the sniper rifle up, turning toward the lamp to use as a fixed point while she calibrated. "Leon took over my training as soon as I entered the Phantom program. It's not an 'official' division of the Alliance, I can't honestly say anymore what I know has anything to do with the Alliance. I'm starting to get the impression once you get past the bureaucratic bullshit of the Phantoms, it's really a free-for-all." She lowered her sniper rifle, making a few adjustments, and glanced at Ares' back. "Sure, there are similarities across the board, but … Leon and Ray are very different people, not just in their personalities, but how they do shit in general." She brought the scope to her eye again, adjusting the dials. "Ares … have you ever heard of an organization called Cerberus?"

He rumbled, the sound low, followed by shuffling around and metal scraping across ceramic. He took his time, finishing his meal prep, she supposed, ending in the sound of a wet plop before he answered, "Might have, but nothing too deep into the organization." Moving closer, his feet not quite as silent on the tile, he sat his plate down on the bar when she looked over at him. "Everything I've seen or heard all falls under the category of plausible deniability."

She hummed, making one final adjustment to her scope before easing the sniper rifle back into its case. Watching him as he moved to the kitchen drawers, finding a fork on his second try, she took a deep breath and dove in head first. "I've been researching them, discreetly … and without Ray's knowledge, for the time being." She closed the case, snapping the latches closed and pressed her palms to the top, anchoring herself in the moment. "Have you heard anything about any ties Cerberus might have to the Alliance?"

He speared a piece of the blue meat with the fork and rumbled, flicking his mandibles. "I've heard a lot of things, most of it probably bullshit." He shrugged. "I've heard they're just a rich terrorist company, part of the Alliance, all paid for by one man, a pre-Relay 314 group gone bad." Stuffing his forkful of food in his mouth, he tipped his head back to swallow before shifting his gaze to her. "I really don't know what to tell you, but I can always see if my contacts in Blackwatch know more. No promises they have anything, though."

She watched him for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, but then shook her head. "No. Thank you, but no. I have a feeling I'm digging into shit that's going to blow up in my face, I don't want to drag anyone else down with me. I just figured whatever you already knew might help, don't need you to go digging around and draw attention to yourself, too."

He hummed as he snapped his jaws open and closed in that half-chew turians did. Swallowing, he scratched the scarring on his neck. "While not really information on the possible connection to the Alliance, I do know they test on anything _not_ human. Fuck, maybe humans too. I've heard of them supposedly buying slaves when they pass through Omega, but they never crossed my path enough to look deeper."

"Yeah … I've found actual, official reports of them abducting asari for some sort of experiments. One got away, but they left her too traumatized for her to really give anyone many details. I know they were testing some sort of biotic suppressant on them, but not to what end, or really what it entailed." She blew out a breath, stray hairs fluttering around her face. "I know they attacked a ship trying to get antimatter, the _SSV Geneva_ , but again, nothing on what they intended to do with it. I keep hitting dead ends, or just finding useless information."

"Definitely sounds like they have—what's the saying?—friends in high places?" He flared his mandibles in question.

She nodded in answer before giving voice to her own, "They'd have to, wouldn't they? To stay hidden despite the big scale shit they're pulling?"

Ares nodded just before tipping his head back to swallow another bite. "I'd be willing to believe it. I see where you suspect the Alliance could be the ones hiding something."

She chewed on her lip again, tasting blood. "There's more … but it'll take a while to explain. Feel like listening to a story?"

He chuckled and popped a piece of meat into his mouth, making a 'go on' gesture with his hand.


	3. Reliving History

**Reliving History**

Jasmine took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Several months ago, Leon, my old handler, showed up on the Citadel and told me we had a job on Illium. You probably heard something about the mess at RetCorp?"

Ares pushed his food around with his fork before seeming to find a suitable piece and stabbed it. "I heard a bit about it. I assume you were involved?"

"Yeah, anyway, it was supposed to be his job, but he wanted me in on it. We were supposed to go after a handful of asari responsible for the deaths of over three thousand humans in the Terminus System. They sold colonists medications known to have serious side effects in humans," she said, waving her hand, "a bunch of contractual, doublespeak bullshit. Then, a politician was nearly killed in a failed assassination attempt after he tried to press for action against RetCorp."

His only response came as a slow chewing and a twirl of his fork to keep her going, leaning his hip against the counter behind him.

"Just a second, let me put this up." Jasmine slid down from the stool and carried her gun case to her room, sliding it under her bed before making her way back out. "While we were on Illium, Leon started acting … unusual. Hawking me every chance he got, really trying to push to rekindle our relationship, which ended years ago."

She made her way into the kitchen, past Ares, and opened the freezer, pulling out a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and grabbed a spoon. He watched her in silence, not interrupting at all in between stuffing pieces of his lunch into his mouth.

Sitting back down, she popped the top off of the container and stuck her spoon inside, pushing aside the memory of sharing ice cream with Thane, and continued her story. "I could tell there was something he wasn't telling me, and I can recognize a misdirection when I see one. So, I hacked his omni-tool and learned the politician was actually his father. He claimed the Alliance didn't realize the relationship between them, but it was still a legit job, and he'd cover my ass if anything came up."

She stuck a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, turning the spoon upside down to use her tongue to suck it clean, closing her eyes with a moan. Christ, it tasted so good. Exactly what she needed. "Things went to shit inside RetCorp. He didn't show at the first rendezvous spot, and a lot more people died in there than those we were after. People who didn't have anything to do with it, and were just doing their jobs." Dropping her gaze to the green ice cream, she swallowed, letting the memories of Leon's betrayal overcome her for a moment. When she spoke again, the hoarse, strained sound of her own voice made her wince. "By the time we got out, we were both bloodied and exhausted. He had this crazed look in his eyes the whole time … back at the apartment, I got notification of a job."

She looked up, meeting Ares' gaze as she raised an eyebrow. "HQ didn't know I ever left the Citadel. The job on Illium didn't exist, just Leon deciding to seek out retaliation on his own. In the Terminus Systems. Without Alliance approval. And he dragged my ass into it."

Turning her attention back to her ice cream, she stabbed at it few times. Finally, she scooped some onto her spoon and brought it to her mouth. The second bite didn't taste quite as good. "I confronted him, and things got ugly. He sounded crazy, talking about tying up loose ends … and I knew he meant he intended to go kill the contact I established to help us get into RetCorp … and Tannor." She waved her spoon in a circle. "Well, Tannor used a different alias at the time. He'd gone to Illium after me and developed a friendship with my contact to stay close to me while I was there …."

She sighed, sticking the spoon back into the mint chocolate chip. "Anyway, Leon wanted to kill people who were completely innocent in the whole RetCorp thing, just because they'd be able to point us out in a crowd. Although, he did imply he knew something was going on between Tannor and I; I think Leon knew who Tannor really is, but that's not the point."

Taking another bite of her ice cream, she sighed. "Things got physical when I tried to stop him, and he beat the shit out of me. Knocked me out." Sticking the spoon in her mouth, she pushed hair back out of her face, showing Ares the scar on her temple. Dropping her hair, she pulled her spoon back out and huffed. "Sonofabitch _pistol-whipped_ me. What a fucking insult." She shook her head, still feeling the ire of Leon's method of choice, insult to injury. "When I woke up, I went straight to my contact's place, knowing Tannor could handle himself if it came to it, but it didn't matter, he was there with my contact. I got there just in time, Leon made a couple of stops along the way—killed a turian he'd gotten into a bar fight with before letting the guy sleep on our couch, and the man's wife."

"I saw him on the balcony across from the front door when it opened, and I fired." She pressed her lips into a thin line, remembering the cold rage consuming her as she pulled the trigger on a man she once loved. "I didn't make it a quick kill … I don't think I've ever been so pissed. After, I reported the events to my liaison and turned myself in. Despite the evidence I gave the Alliance, they kept me locked up, trying to find ways to justify making charges stick because he was one of our own." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, the feeling more defensive than apathetic. "There's not a whole lot of love between me and the Alliance right now."

She took a bite of her ice cream, trying to calm the brewing storm of emotions. "While in whatever secret, secluded facility they kept me locked away in, the woman who'd been interrogating me finally showed me a video she'd retrieved from Leon's omni-tool." Jasmine fell silent, stabbing her spoon into the ice cream a few times. "I don't really want to rehash that, but at the end, just before The Bitch cut it off, Leon said something that implied I'm only loyal to the Alliance because I don't know something about them yet."

She glanced up, meeting Ares' gaze, but he only watched her in silence. "I couldn't let it go, so, after Ray got me out of there, I started digging. With some help from one of Tannor's contacts, I found some emails between Leon and his father about Cerberus where Leon warned his father away from looking into Cerberus. Said 'the Illusive Man' is too dangerous to mess with. They were both pretty vague, but it's clear the man was upset over some project of Cerberus'. His dad didn't listen, though, he started talking to an admiral, but the admiral warned him off, too."

She licked her lips, searching Ares face for some sign—any sign—he shared her thought process, but whatever went on in his mind, he remained reserved, keeping it to himself for the time being. "I think … I think Cerberus killed Leon's father, they just waited until there was something going on to make it look like someone else was responsible. And, I think whatever Leon said, whatever The Bitch wouldn't let me see, had to do with the Alliance working with or covering for Cerberus in some way—probably to do with the project Leon's dad was so upset over."

Finally, Ares hummed, leaning back enough to dump his empty plate into the sink. "Seems like someone would have to be stupid not to see that connection too." Crossing his arms, he lifted a brow plate, and Jasmine let out a soft, relieved sigh. "So, my question is what do you intend to get out of this search into the possible connection? You already admitted to figuring it'll all go to shit, so I'm just curious."

Jasmine snorted, licking her spoon clean before tossing it over the breakfast bar, over Ares' shoulder, and into the sink. "If I were smart … I'd leave it the fuck alone." She put the lid back on the container and stood, making her way back into the kitchen to put the last of the ice cream away. "But …."

"But it's just not like you," he finished for her.

She laughed, stopping to lean against the bar next to him, elbows resting on the surface. "I can't get it out of my head, you know? Everytime I close my eyes, try to quiet my mind for the night … I just keep seeing that vid. Like it's seared into my brain now, and the only way I'll ever get it to go away is to get to the bottom of things."

He hummed, turning his head to look at the far wall, but she thought he really saw something _much_ further away. "And what do you expect to do if you ever manage that?"

"I guess it depends on what I find." She shrugged, folding her shoulders in toward her chin even though he still didn't look at her. "I've already been considering leaving the Alliance after my contract ends, maybe it'll just be the thing that makes up my mind for me. Or … maybe it ends up being the thing that sends me on some stupid, hero-complex, kamikaze death mission. Who knows?"

He chuckled and looked back down to her. "If you need the backup, I'd always be into some shit blowing up in our faces." Shrugging, he grinned. "Hell, I'm pretty used to it now. Might show you a thing or two."

Flashing her teeth at him in a grin, she leaned over, gently bumping her shoulder against him. "Careful now, I'll hold you to that."

"Which one? The blowing shit up in my face or me teaching you something about shit going sideways?" He rumbled and pushed her shoulder, probably intending to be gentle, but still jostling her a bit rougher than expected. "Because that'll be a long lesson."

"Shit," she said with a scoff, "I've had more than enough shit go sideways to last me a lifetime." Pushing back from the counter, she turned to put her hip against the bar. "The guy last night, the one I beat the crap out of … I'm assuming you saw the whole shit show … he reminded me of Leon. That's it. That's why he got it as bad as he did. Well, and I was still pissed with you." She grinned again. "Ray's right, I've got to figure out a way to let go of Leon and his baggage … though I doubt Ray would approve of how I'm going about it."

"I know what you mean," he said, nodding once before gazing out of the balcony doors. "I still see Cameric everywhere, even after I shoved his ass into the vats."

"That's not very reassuring." She hummed, crossing her arms over her chest, hands resting on opposite shoulders. "So, the whole 'closure' thing is bullshit?"

He shrugged and turned back to her. "I don't know. Depends on how badly Leon fucked you. No pun intended—unless it was really _that_ bad," he added with a grin.

She snorted, shaking her head. "Nah, the sex was probably the only good thing about our relationship." She fell silent for a moment, staring at Ares' hands resting on the counter without really seeing them. " _What_ he did isn't so bad as _how_ he did it. I don't even really have the words to explain, he just … robbed me of something I don't think I can get back."

He nodded, rumbling. "No, I get it. It's not the same telling someone as having it happen to you." He stood up from the counter. "And I can't promise it'll go away, but who knows? I'm not really the best example of 'getting the fuck over it.'"

She chuckled. "I guess we wouldn't be in this profession if we weren't at least a little maladjusted."

He laughed and started heading towards his room. "I have to get these damn plates off, starting to annoy me."

"Yeah, I need a shower myself. I reek." She rounded the counter, heading towards her own room. "Don't know how you were able to tolerate standing so close to me for as long as you did."

"It's called 'living on Omega for a good while,'" he said over his shoulder with a chuckle.

* * *

It was still too early for Ramona to be asleep. At least, he assumed she wouldn't be asleep so early in the evening, but he'd be the first one to admit not knowing a damn thing about human sleep cycles beyond the basic textbooks he had to study in basic. Considering the circumstances, he knew damn well that Ramona—or even her handler, for that matter—didn't sleep 'normal' when compared to a general standard.

He hung out in the kitchen after cleaning himself up, feeling out of place having a shower when he was so used to not needing them but every so often—and only if he managed to get himself into some mess or another. He didn't really use the scented soaps because the smell was more akin to an assault on his senses than real means of relaxation as advertised, but turians didn't really require soap as most species recognized it as. A good rinse off usually did the trick, and the cool water relieved some of the heat in his scars that was probably just his imagination, but annoying all the same.

Sitting at the bar, he pondered why he was comfortable enough to wear the closest thing he owned to relaxed wear and a sleeveless shirt—all given to him by Charles because, as the man claimed, he looked too uncomfortable always wearing the same thing. Charles also insisted Ares smelled, but he knew that was either an exaggeration or a lie because he cleaned his clothes more than his own plates, scents clinging to the stupid things. He accepted the clothes just to get the kid to shut the hell up about dressing differently and forgetting his constant adherence to his code of dressing in a manner that concealed his weaponry.

However, his mind wandered to other matters than the human and his butting into Ares' routine for such a simple—and annoying—reason. Leaning over the bar, he focused all attention on the lighter in his hand as he spun it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. More specifically, on the man it rightfully belonged to.

The man that was stupid and selfish enough to go get himself killed for the dumbest fucking reason. All after he spent so much time trying to keep Ares alive after the fire, tending to his extensive burns and injuries after the Hierarchy, and Blackwatch specifically, decided he was better as a traitor than soldier.

Growling, he twirled the lighter faster, jostling his leg on the floor in irritation. Just as he began to debate getting dressed again and leaving for a walk—and maybe fight or fuck—he heard Ramona's door slide open. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed her hair was still damp from her shower and her omni-tool active. Her eyes flicked up to him, and she smiled as she walked towards the kitchen. He followed her movements as she approached the refrigerator, opened it, and dug out a bottle of water.

"I forgot to mention, I've taken on a temporary roommate," she said as she looked to the screen.

"You have?" Ares flicked his mandibles in recognition of _Tannor's_ voice and held back his smirk that, yes, they _did_ finally get their heads out of their asses and talked through their attraction.

He's seen enough humans to tell Ramona held back a smile as she answered. "Mhmm… but you're probably not going to like it."

"Indeed?"

Glancing at Ares, she raised a brow, and he shrugged. Why not? Not like _he'd_ be the one getting a stern talking to for being there. Moving back around the bar, she slid into the seat next to him and leaned a little closer, giving him a view of her omni-tool and the drell on her screen.

Tannor's face stilled, and he blinked twice. "Ares."

Ares smirked at how the new information was definitely not something the man anticipated. "About time you two stopped undressing each other with your eyes and actually started doing it the right way."

Ramona snorted, slapping his arm with the back of her hand. "Be nice."

Tannor cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"This _is_ me being nice," Ares said to Ramona before looking to Tannor's image. "And you, I guess. We weren't really on the best of terms when we first met. I could tell."

Tannor blinked. "My apologies." He blinked again, voice dry. "I didn't trust your intent with … Ramona. I only wished to ensure she returned home safely."

Her lips twitched. "He knows my real name, don't bother."

"I see." Tannor dipped his head. "But it seems you have won Jasmine's trust, and that is all the reassurance I require."

Ares shrugged. "I said I know, not that I blame you. It's understandable in our profession, especially among freelancers." He leaned away from the omni-tool should the other two want to get into their own conversation. Privacy wasn't an issue to _Jasmine_ —as he was now aware of her real name—or she wouldn't be out there, but that didn't mean Ares wanted to be included in a conversation where he'd just be sitting around like a quiet observer.

Straightening back up when he moved away, Jasmine turned her attention back to the screen. "He's helping Bossman and I out on a job. Figured the least I could do was give him a place to crash, since he dropped whatever he was doing to come help out." At his mention, Ares glanced over from where he'd begun to spin the lighter once again and found her grinning. "Don't worry, he's kept his hands to himself … so far."

Tannor chuckled. "I find it highly unlikely you'd allow him to get away with anything untowards." There was a moment of silence, but Ares had returned to his compulsive twirling and didn't see the reason for it. "My apologies. Regretfully, I must go, siha. My presence is required elsewhere."

"It's okay. Call me later, love you," she said, voice almost tranquil.

"And I you," Tannor said, his voice softer.

Jasmine closed the omni-tool and hopped down off the stool, drawing Ares' attention. She studied him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. "You alright?"

He lifted his unscarred brow plate. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "You seem especially broody …" She glanced at the lighter in his hands, tilting her head a little. "... and fidgety."

He rumbled, admittedly obvious in his actions. Surprising for him to realize, but he wasn't in the mood to care at the moment. "It's the anniversary of the death of a … an old friend."

Understanding flashed through her eyes, and she nodded her head. "Drinks?"

He huffed a weak laugh and nodded curtly. "See if this place has horosk and I'm in."

She sucked on her teeth. "I don't know what the hell that is … so, I'll let you order. Or, if you want, we can go out."

He paused in his fidgeting with the lighter and lifted a brow plate again. "I'm always up for bars, so it's your call."

She looked down at her battered hands, scabs forming over the cuts and scrapes. "Hmmm. Might actually be better if we lay low for a day or two." Her brow furrowed as she sighed, the sound filled with regret. "Suppose if the Towers doesn't have it in stock, we can find somewhere else that does and have it delivered."

Standing, he gave her a shrug in response and headed for the balcony. "If they don't have it, just ask for the strongest they have. No need to bother with all that other shit." He opened the balcony door and glanced over his shoulder. "I need a smoke until then."

She nodded, opening her omni-tool again. "You got it."

Ares closed the door partially and stepped to the railing of the balcony, looking out over the fanciest part of the Citadel he'd ever been able to just take in without rushing through for a kill. He reached into the pocket of his pants and fetched the box of cigarettes without breaking away from the sight. A shake of the box reminded him that he needed to go out and fetch more soon—and deal with that nightmare of finding a place that even carried the uncommon Taetrian import—and he grumbled under his breath as he flipped open the box and gripped the lighter in his opposite hand in a way that let him pull out a cigarette. Bringing it to his mouth, he held it between the plates, pocketed the box, and cupped his hand over it so he could light it. He flinched like always but, that time, paused to look at the lighter and let his eyes wander over the almost completely faded war hymn apparently from before the Unification War. He wouldn't even know what it said if not for being told so by the rightful owner, but he trusted the man would have had no reason to lie about the translation from such an outdated language.

 _Stand before me, and be an enemy. Stand at my side, and I'll fight for you till death._

He thought it was all a bunch of bullshit, just words to make people feel good about battle and think they had any control over how it goes. Nothing in fighting side by side with another person had ever proven it to be the right choice. Looking over his shoulder at the woman inside, he sighed and figured he was probably insane for trying it again, but he was nothing if not an idiot. He would either be surprised and pleased, or screwed and most likely killed, or at least injured, but he'd leave that for time to tell.

* * *

Jasmine narrowed her eyes at the bottle of rum in her hand, not quite willing to believe she'd drank so much of the bottle herself, though she didn't exactly think Ares had been stealing drinks when she wasn't looking. She sighed, lifting the bottle to her mouth, having forgone using a glass for the evening. Burning her throat on the way down, the rum washed through her with waves of heat, half of it going straight between her legs, making her wish Thane were there.

She wasn't all too happy he planned on taking a job straight away after his treatments were finished. She'd been looking forward to him catching up with her again, spending time with him. He felt obligated to accept, though, because of the people who hired him, and she supposed she understood well enough. Still, it put a damper on her plans. With a little luck it wouldn't take him very long, and then he'd show up and surprise her.

She glanced around her, sitting in the middle of the floor, but no longer able to remember when she sat down there, let alone why. Ares sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, smoking a cigarette—at least she remembered telling him he didn't have to go out on the balcony to smoke, but they did leave the balcony door cracked to keep the place aired out a little. He gave her an amused flick of his mandibles.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Drunk people amuse me," he said before taking a drag from his cigarette.

She snorted. "I'm not even doing anything amusing."

He blew smoke out in a thin line. "You're swaying from time to time."

"Mmm." She took another drink of the bottle. "Must be why I'm on the floor."

"You did say, 'I need to get down for this' a few minutes ago." He shrugged, chuckling. "Not sure what being on the ground does, but I guess you wouldn't fall as far if you toppled over."

"Shush. Drink more of your expensive ass dextro shit." She took another drink before leaning over to carefully ease the bottle onto the table. "So, tell me something about you."

He hummed around his drink of bright blue liquid and lifted the cigarette in front of his mouth. "You'll have to be specific."

"Hmm," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back on her palms. She narrowed her eyes at him again. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-two." He took a drag before blowing it out and waving a finger towards her. "And you?"

"I kinda don't want to tell you, after your 'child' comment …" She narrowed her eyes further when he snorted. "… but twenty-five."

He hummed and nodded once before taking a drink. "Next question."

"So this is going to be a game of twenty questions, then?" She made a crackling sound deep in her throat as she thought, laying down the rest of the way, resting her head in her interlaced fingers. "Okay. What's your favorite kill method, besides your 'baby?'"

He took a moment to take a drag and blew it out before answering. "A good blade works well. Sometimes even soak it in poisonous materials depending on my target." Lifting a brow, he smirked. "Looking to take up that kind of art?"

She rolled her head against her hands to look at him better, lifting an eyebrow. "Poisons?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. Anything from artificially made to natural sources." He took a drink, and she had to suppress the urge to cut him off, seeing him gear up for a longer speech while she'd only been looking for clarification on his question, not a dissertation on an already familiar topic. "Every species' homeworld has toxic plants, poisonous animals…" Rumbling, he looked deep in thought, and his gaze went distant. "There was one time I poisoned an exotic importer of rare animals from different planets." Looking back down at her, he grinned. "Coated my blade in a serpent's venom from Earth, given he was human. Didn't even know how he got it in his system."

She chuckled. "I know a few poisons. Several for humans, most of which also work just as well on batarians. A couple specific to turians, and … three, I think for asari? Three for salarian, one for krogan. Why bother with the quarians? Got nothing for elcor, hanar, volus, or drell."

Ares snorted. "You don't need a poison for volus. Just rupture their suit same as you would a quarian."

She arched an eyebrow, her tone cocky when she said, "You don't _need_ a poison for any of them. That being said, I do know poisons for quarians, just don't see the point. Shit, just cough on their food when they're not looking."

He laughed before taking a drink. "I ashed in one's plate. Too bad so many run through a sterilization procedure, dulls the taste of things." He shrugged. "That, and I doubt he even knew what ash tasted like to know not to eat it."

"Most of them don't bother with their suit's purification, saving the energy and whatever else they use to sterilize the food, if it's been prepackaged for quarians." She shrugged. "I've only ever killed one quarian, though, and it wasn't with poison or coughing." She closed her eyes, sucking in a slow breath to stave off the memories.

He hummed around a drag of his cigarette, the paper and _not_ -tobacco hissing and crackling, not responding to her—probably obvious—discomfort.

A moment later, she opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling. "Hardest job?"

He let out a heavy exhale. "Happened when brass had the wrong information. Made a mistake." The sound of the couch shifting filled the room as he paused. "Killed someone who didn't deserve to die because of it."

She closed her eyes again. "Ever killed someone who you didn't think deserved it, personally, but because it's what you were told to do?"

"Yeah. Goes with the same job." The slosh of liquid in his bottle interrupted him before he spoke again. "I was sent in to kill a corrupt politician on a colony, but given the orders to clear out anyone who may spot me. The brass knew he had a wife, and specifically told me she was expendable. While I didn't agree, I had to when she drew a weapon on me as I tried to get out." He made a distressed thrum. "She was pregnant, and the Hierarchy didn't know."

She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him again. Watching him stare at his bottle, elbows on his knees. She let the silence linger for a moment before she finally said, "Damn."

"Yeah…." He took a puff, drawing in a deeper breath than usual before blowing it out slowly. "I guess you could say the other hardest job was this one," he said, motioning to his face, "but for a different reason."

"I can see that." She gave him a slow nod before turning her gaze back to the ceiling. "Your turn."

He gave her a thoughtful thrum. "Where on Earth did you grow up?"

"Couple of different places. I was born in a city called Corpus Christi, Texas. My parents both ended up dead when I was still a kid, and I didn't care for the whole foster care slash orphanage scene, so I cut out. Traveled for a while, got myself into trouble, ran around with the wrong people. Ended up in Santa Fe, New Mexico hooked on red sand … doing really stupid shit to get more …." She shook her head, refusing to allow those memories to surface. She learned long ago, examining her time on the streets while drunk proved a quick way to ruin her buzz by bawling her eyes out. "Decided to get clean, and then ended up joining the Alliance at eighteen."

She heard the sound of Ares take a drink before he spoke again. "I spent a good time after the betrayal using hallex in between jobs. So I know the need. Turned out alcohol and smoking helped."

"I quit smoking when I joined the Alliance. As it happens, breathing is necessary to running obstacle courses on four hours of sleep." She snorted, and he chuckled. "I still struggle with the cravings from time to time. I fucked around with some other shit, when red sand wasn't available, but it's red sand still whispering in my ear."

"Same. I don't think that ever goes away." He shifted, the couch letting out a soft groan beneath his weight. "Your turn."

She thought about it for a second before asking, "Where are you from?"

"Small village about a hundred kilometers outside of Cipritine. I think the human saying would be 'in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.'" He took another drink, the alcohol sloshing against the glass walls of the bottle.

She laughed, turning her head to look at him again. "Ever go back?"

He stayed quiet a moment. "No. I can't."

She waited to see if he'd elaborate. Funny thing, that, stare at a person long enough in silence, and they'll usually start talking again.

He sighed and took a drag before speaking. "My family still lives there, but they all think I'm a traitor to my people. Even if I wore prosthetics, I'm sure they'd recognize me. Especially my mother." He shifted, the topic clearly an unpleasant one for him, but he didn't retreat. "Besides, the town is so small that someone like me showing up will attract attention anyways."

She lifted an eyebrow. "They don't know you're still alive?"

"No. Better that way. I wouldn't want my parents to lose faith in the Hierarchy they have served for generations." He rumbled, the sound sad. "And what good would it do to be told their son is one thing by something they trust so much and have me telling them opposite? They'd become outcasts just like me if they believed anything I said."

The corners of her mouth turned down, her heart aching for him. "I'm sorry, it can't be easy."

He drank again, throat bobbing in long swallows, taking in more in one go than any other time. "Yeah. Thinking about it makes me wish I could pull Cameric out of that vat just so I can kill him again."

She sighed and nodded, understanding the feeling. As much as thinking about having killed Leon twisted up her insides with a hurricane of emotions, sometimes … sometimes she wished she could do the same. "We're being depressing. Ask me something happy before I end up ugly, drunk crying."

He let out a deep chuckle, the sound rougher than when he wasn't drinking. "Since you asked me, what's your favorite kill tactic?"

"Besides using my sniper rifle to put a bullet between their eyes?" She raised an eyebrow, but didn't expect an answer to the question. "Hmm. Probably throwing a knife and having it embed in the back of their skull."

"I noticed the set of them the other night." He blew out a smoky exhale before leaning over the coffee table and stamping out his spent cigarette on a small plate. "Which name do you want me to call you?"

She shrugged, sitting up and picking up her bottle of rum. "Whichever you prefer, unless we're in public, then whatever alias I'm using—especially if Ray's around. He's adamant about not using real names outside of private spaces." She took a drink and sat the bottle back down, pulling up her right pants leg, revealing a black strap around her ankle with a small, closed pocket. "I'm honestly probably equally accustomed to responding to aliases as I am my own name." She unsnapped the pocket and retrieved the ancient, worn folding knife of her father's, setting it on the table. "Was my dad's," she said, pushing the knife across the table towards Ares. "Only thing I have of his besides his last name." She took another drink. "Though, sometimes … I'm not entirely sure why I keep it around."

He hummed as he picked it up with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. Looking over the knife, he glanced up at Jasmine before tossing his lighter to her. "Feel the same way about that thing. I wasn't even a smoker before it."

Reflexes not exactly on point thanks to the alcohol, she fumbled, but managed to catch the lighter before it smacked into her chest. Holding it in her palm, she ran a thumb over the tarnished surface, turning it over in her hand. She saw something inscribed there, but it was so faded … and, as she squinted to try to read it, she realized it wasn't translating at all for her. "Whose was it?"

Ares ran the tip of his talon along the blade of her knife before looking up at her. "It belonged to the man who saved my life after the betrayal. I would've died from the burns or infection if not for him." He growled and flipped the knife closed. "And then the old fool got himself killed."

She leaned across the table, holding the lighter out to him, brow furrowing with dread. Still, she had to ask, "What happened?" She accepted her father's knife from him as he made the switch, and tucked it back in its case, snapping the top closed again and tugging her pant leg back down.

He flicked open and closed the lid to the lighter a few times before he asked, "Which? To me or to him?"

She jerked her head to the side. "I meant to him, but … yeah, to you, too, if you're willing to share details."

Ares leaned back, laying his head against the back of the couch and stretching out his legs while still playing with the lighter's lid. "We were sent in to sabotage a private mining company, but leave enough intact for the Hierarchy to claim possession due to unsafe practices and use it for themselves. Everything went good until an alert siren went off, directing workers to evacuate from a fire. A fire that we weren't ordered to set. We were just supposed to steal information and sabotage enough equipment that an inspection would show, not put every worker in there at risk." His shoulders lifted before falling again with a heavy sigh. "When I realized that someone from our group had to be responsible, I feel a knife in my back. The newest addition to our team, probably to get a recommendation on his file, apparently followed orders to pin shit on me. He tried to leave me in the burning warehouse sector and shoved me into the overflow from the smelters working on whatever they were digging out of the mines." Shifting, he sat up and took a long drink, almost finishing the rest of his bottle. "You want to know what makes that damn rifle so special? It saved my damn life. I was dying, armor fused to my body, plates sloughing off, and hide melting off, and I found it and used it as a battering ram just to get out. I managed to crawl out of immediate danger, but passed out from the pain. Woke up bandaged, flooded with painkillers, and in some strange house I had never seen before."

Jasmine watched him with rapt attention as he spoke, suppressing a shudder. When he fell silent, she lifted her bottle to her lips again, filling her mouth with rum, swallowing three times before she stopped. A part of her, quite likely the very drunk part, had to fight the urge to go sit next to him on the couch and pull him into a hug. She doubted he'd appreciate it at all. "What happened to the man who saved you?"

"He was a retired doctor. I know he knew what I was, but it didn't seem to bother him." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head down. "He smoked like it was oxygen and used this stupid lighter, smoked the same fucking cigarettes. He lived between the mines and nearest town. 'For the privacy,' he said. He went into town one day for I don't know what, and apparently thought it was a smart idea to refuse to hand over his fucking credits when he was being robbed. Got his stupid ass shot." Ares lifted a hand to rub at his scars along his neck. "The authorities came to the house and mistook me for his son—I didn't know why at the time. They all assumed I was a miner injured in the fire, but still had to bring me the news." Growling, he tightened his fists. "I was given his things. And I couldn't stay at his home anymore after that, but I couldn't just let his shit go untouched at his home." He looked up at Jasmine. "His son was dead. Apparently got sick, if the papers around the house were true. And the old bastard didn't tell anyone out of shame for not being able to save him. Part of why he retired."

Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, so she blinked and cleared her throat. "Did the assholes who robbed and killed him at least get caught?"

"No." He shrugged. "I didn't have the resources to get any info on them at the time, and when I did, there wasn't shit about their identity to follow up on."

"Fuck, that sucks." The door's buzzer stole her attention away from Ares, and she scrambled, using the table to help push herself to her feet. She swayed once upright, but managed to stay standing. Moving on wobbly legs, she headed for the door, reaching out to grab onto a chair as she passed, using it to steady herself. "Shush," she said, hearing an amused rumble come from Ares.

Making it to the door was real touch and go, but she managed. Activating the security camera monitor, she scrunched up her nose when she saw Isaac's face. "Shit." She slammed her palm against the door's release, only to realize it was locked. "Damn it," she said, swaying again as she unlocked the door and tried again. The door slid open, and she listed to the side a little.

Isaac took one look at her before his gaze slid past her, probably looking at the turian sitting on her couch and the liquor bottles. Returning his gaze to her, he shook his head. "Looks like you threw a party and didn't even invite me. I'm wounded."

She snorted, leaning into the door frame for support. "It's more of a pity party, but come on in."

Isaac hesitated, bobbing his head a little. "I did come to discuss work, but … it looks like it'll have to wait until tomorrow." He shrugged, then reached out to steady Jasmine when she pushed off the door frame and started to tilt too far in the opposite direction. Laughing, he stepped over her threshold, closing the door behind him and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to guide her back to the living room.

The room spun around her, but his firm hands kept her upright. When her vision settled, she saw Ares finish off his bottle before checking his cigarette box. He tossed it on the table, and she assumed it must be empty because the man smoked way too much to not have one already lit if he wasn't out. Isaac aimed her toward the couch, and she resisted, shaking her head and instantly regretting it.

Tugging herself free from his grip, she returned to her spot on the floor. "It's safer down here. Apparently, I'm a falling risk."

Isaac laughed, and then surprised her by folding himself down on the floor perpendicular to her. "I can't say I'm surprised."

Picking up her bottle of rum, roughly a third left in the bottle, she took a drink and handed it to Isaac. She watched him take one swallow, a shallow one even, and then he handed it back to her. She snorted, shoving the bottle between her crossed legs and turned her attention back to Ares. "Your turn."

He chuckled and stood. "I give you my life story and now I have to come up with a question?" He walked towards the kitchen and started searching through the cabinets for food. "How about siblings?"

She took a moment, the question not making sense to her at first. "Don't got any. Well … unless my dad had another kid I don't know about. Him and my mom split up before she died, he disappeared on us. About a year later, he died, too. You?"

"Three sisters, two older and one younger." He grabbed another box of the same, strange blue meat and popped it open. "Now, I think it's time Ray asks something since he decided to join us."

Jasmine turned her gaze to Isaac and blinked. "Sure, sounds good."

Isaac studied her for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "As interested as I am to learn all the details about you, I don't think it's really fair to do this while you're drunk. You might say something you'll regret in the morning."

She thought about it for a minute and shook her head. "I'm not that drunk. Seriously. I'd have to be far more fucked up than this to forget myself like that. You're good, ask away. I own responsibility for whatever comes out of my mouth."

He chuckled, stretching out one leg and draping an arm over the bent knee of his other. "Alright. How'd you meet the kid from last night, Mouse?"

She blinked a couple of times, and shrugged. "I choose to look at the duct rats while other people look away. Ran into him last time I stayed on the Citadel, bought him something to eat. I hook the kids up when I can. I don't know him well, but well enough to know he's a good kid just doing what he has to to survive."

He nodded, seeming to process what she said for a moment. "You've got a soft spot for kids, especially ones with his sort of life, don't you?"

She smirked. "Maybe. But don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my badass assassin image."

He laughed. "Alright, your turn."

"Seriously, _Ray_?" She rolled her eyes.

Shrugging, he tilted his head a little. "I trust you to keep things where they need to be. If I don't like something, I won't answer."

"Alright." She shifted a little, turning to face him more squarely, the smell of Ares' canned mystery meat tickling her nose. "I'll start with some of the shit he and I already covered. What's your favorite kill tactic?"

Isaac hummed, leaning back on his hands. "Honestly?" He lifted an eyebrow, waiting until she nodded to continue, "I don't think I really have one. For me it's less about a specific tactic and more about the best tactic for the job. Although, I admit, sometimes I like it best when it's challenging and forces me to be creative."

Jasmine snorted, hearing Ares groan over the answer as she lifted the bottle back to her lips. After swallowing a mouthful, she passed it over to Isaac. "That was a cheap answer, but whatever. Your turn."

"What do you think your biggest weakness is, professionally speaking?" He took another shallow drink and handed it back to her, lifting an eyebrow.

She thought about it for a moment. "Well, normally I'd give you some bullshit line about how great I am, but …" She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess my hand to hand is more incapacitating and less lethal." She let her gaze roam to Ares, still in the kitchen making food. "Your turn, Nemos."

Ares hummed as he grabbed a plate and dropped his food on it with a wet slap. "Anger." He shrugged and began to walk back to the living room. "I tend to like kills that don't require me to play the part of a normal person. Guess I like the messier, more straightforward jobs."

"Define 'normal person' …." Jasmine tracked his movements with her gaze.

He speared a piece of the bluish meat. "The kind that can blend into the crowd and make friends with their target so they can get close and stab them in the back." He popped the food in his mouth and chewed for a second before swallowing. "I can't do espionage centric contracts."

She hummed, turning a little to keep both Isaac and Ares within easy sight. "So, basically, what I'm best at. I'm not sure whether there's a compliment or an insult in there, but I can say I'm not used to being called 'normal.'"

He chuckled, lifting a brow. "Normal as compared to an Alliance assassin?"

Isaac scoffed. "Please, we don't all have the same training."

"Still," Ares said with a shrug. "You can walk down the street, tell someone you work for the Alliance, and nobody would know what you _really_ do."

"The Phantoms are good with aliases." She nodded. "And yeah, I get where you're coming from. I suppose it would be pretty hard for you to go overlooked or unremembered."

Ares nodded as he swallowed a bite of food and then chuckled. "Even prosthetics can't make me shorter."

She grinned, setting the bottle on the floor between her and Isaac before laying back again, tucking her hands under her head. "Mmmm, you could wear stilts and be taller." She laughed, obviously finding herself more amusing than the other two. Glancing at Isaac, she asked, "What about you? What's your professional weakness?"

Isaac pursed his lips out far enough, the top one folded up and brushed against his nose, bringing another laugh from her. He grinned, lifting his shoulders. "Who says I have one?"

She snorted. "Answer the question."

He hesitated, but after a moment nodded, turning his gaze down to his feet. "Emotional detachment."

She watched him in silence, smile fading as she weighed his words. Her gut told her it was the truth. Admittedly, she struggled with it herself at times. Maybe she'd ask him about it more later, when they were alone and she was sober.

Rumbling around his food, Ares lifted his head to swallow before putting down his fork. "I know Ramona's reason, but," he said and he held his hand out to Isaac, palm up, "my question would be what made you choose Alliance over a civilian occupation?"

Isaac chuckled, gaze still on his feet. "My father. He said I 'lacked direction' and insisted I find something to commit to before I'd be allowed control over the account he'd set up for me. I only needed to serve through basic, and once stationed, he said he'd release the account. And he did … I could've quit anytime after my enlistment expired … but by then, I was involved with the Phantoms, and I was happy."

Ares grunted and leaned back, prodding his food with his fork, seemingly no longer hungry. "Years in the business?"

"Actually in the Phantoms? About nineteen." Isaac shifted, pulling his legs in to tuck his ankles under his knees, leaning his elbows on top. "I was nineteen when I enlisted, spent two years in basic, my first year in service, I was recruited."

 _Nineteen, no shit? Damn he looks good for his age._

Ares looked to Jasmine, brow plate raised. "And you?"

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, gnawing on the dead skin. "Enlisted at eighteen, recruited early on in basic. Spent a couple of years training with my last handler. I've been active for … about five years now?"

Ares snorted. "Why is that said as a question?"

"Because I'm drunk, and I don't remember the specific dates." She shrugged, nodding her head at Isaac. "Ask him, he's got access to my records."

"Ha, no." Isaac shook his head, shutting her down. "I'm not digging in your records right now to find out the specific date you became active."

Jasmine grinned, turning her gaze back to Ares. "What, no comments about my age or lack of experience?"

Isaac lifted a fist to his mouth, faking a cough as he said, "Trap."

Ares gave her a throaty hum. "Why would I? I started when I first got into basic, sure, but only because I joined a military advancement program. If I went the regular route, I'd probably have been less experienced when I first started years later." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter age if you can get the shit done."

She smiled, crossing one ankle over the other. Deciding to not remind him again he'd called her an 'inconsiderate child' the night before, she instead said, "I've been told I'm loud and my work is sloppy."

Isaac snorted. "By who?"

"Not important. He's since made up for the remark," she said, keeping her gaze on Ares as he folded his mandibles in close to his face, fighting off his amusement if she had to guess, and took another bite.


	4. Making Plans

**Making Plans**

Jasmine glanced at Ares sitting next to her at the breakfast bar. Suppressing a groan, she secretly hated the turian for not being as hungover as she was. Her head hurt, pulse throbbing just behind her ears and in her temples. Her whole body felt weak and achy, more like she'd contracted some sort of virus than had a night of heavy drinking. Damn, she hadn't realized how low her tolerance had gotten over the last few months.

Ares glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't turn to engage her in conversation—which was more than okay by her. She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose and took a drink of her juice, catching an amused huff from Ares. She glanced at him again, narrowing her eyes, but he only fluttered his mandibles and continued to eat his nauseating canned xemna. The door buzzer rang, and she finally let out the groan she'd been holding back, pushing away from the breakfast bar.

Making her way to the door, she activated the security feed even though she knew only Isaac would be assholish enough to show up at her place so early in the morning. Granted, he did let her have a couple of hours of extra sleep, but with the way she felt, three or four more hours would've been better. On the security monitor, Isaac lifted his eyebrow, and she sighed, opening the door.

He flashed his brilliant smile at her, stepping over her threshold when the door opened, carrying a laptop under his arm. "Morning, Sunshine."

Jasmine snorted, regretting it instantly. "Morning." She turned, trudging back to her seat at the breakfast bar next to Ares.

"Nemos," Isaac said, rounding the bar to lean against the opposite side.

Ares grunted around a mouthful of the blue meat, bringing a chuckle from Isaac. Setting his laptop on the counter, Isaac opened the lid before glancing at Jasmine. She sighed, slipping down off her stool again and went to retrieve her laptop, too. When she returned, she found Isaac messing with her coffee machine, something she hadn't worked up the mental clarity to even think about doing herself yet. She wanted coffee, needed it even, but the machine seemed so far away and so impossible to operate with the fog surrounding her brain.

Sitting back down next to Ares, she opened her laptop and pulled up the Remitun dossier. She glanced at Ares. "You ready to get some actual work done?"

Ares shrugged, fork in his mouth, but he glanced at her and then jerked his head toward her laptop.

She opened up a notes application, glancing over the details she'd already jotted down. "Remitun is slated to arrive on the Citadel in three days at oh-thirteen-hundred, Citadel time. He'll be arriving on _The Caleria_. He booked passage alone, so—"

"He isn't alone." Ares let out a soft growl. "Blackwatch is never alone."

Isaac returned to the counter, sliding a cup of coffee in front of Jasmine. She glanced up, offering him a smile. "Thanks." She picked up the cup and took a sip, setting it back down next to her before turning her attention back to Ares. "Okay …" She made a note of the revelation on her laptop. "Well, I might be able to get ahold of the ship's manifest. Maybe we can narrow down who he might be traveling with by the names of the other passengers."

No sooner than she said the words out loud did a message pop up on her screen from Isaac. She frowned, opening the message to find it contained an attachment for _The Caleria's_ manifest. Snorting, she opened the file. "Or, Bossman can just show off and give it to me now."

Isaac chuckled. "You're welcome."

She glanced over the list, far too many turian names to be of much help to her. "I'm forwarding this to you," she said, glancing at Ares. "See if any of the names stand out." Erasing Isaac's extranet details from the message, she sent it on to Ares' omni-tool.

Ares hummed, flicking one of his mandibles. "Expect there to be more men than just on the ship. Always add at least two men who wouldn't be traveling with him but be there at this Council shit." He shoved food in his mouth, holding the fork between his mouth plates to free his hands, opening his omni-tool. He scanned the manifest, mumbling around his full mouth. "Veltiria Simtumus and Kaeslio Attis."

Jotting down the names, she glanced back at Ares. "Anything about them you can tell us?"

"Specifically? Or general information?" Ares closed his omni-tool and finished off his food.

Jasmine glanced at Isaac, getting nothing but a curious stare from him, before she turned her attention back to Ares. "Weapons of choice? Tactics? Anything that's going to help make sure when this is over, we're alive and Remitun isn't."

Ares snorted. "I can assure you of the latter, at least." Turning, he leaned his side against the bar and drummed his talons on the surface. "Veltiria use to favor her left in battle, but not enough that you'd catch it if not looking for it. Kaeslio prefers to fall further back in battle and use longer range tactics, drones being a favorite to distract while he takes you down with his sniper rifle."

She hummed. "So, he'll probably head for the catwalks, yeah?"

Ares nodded.

"What about Veltiria, aside from favoring her left?" Isaac asked, leaning on the counter again.

"Unless she's changed tactics since I was around—or since I last dug into their files—she has a penchant for anything that blows shit up." Ares flourished his words with a wave of his hand, smirking. "She usually has a custom assault rifle with a grenade attachment."

"Fantastic," Jasmine muttered, picking up her cup of coffee and blowing over the surface. "Sounds like you admire her, maybe we should let _you_ deal with her."

Isaac chuckled. "Our focus is Remitun, if the others get involved, I'll deal with her if need be. Don't worry, Sunshine."

She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. "Are we doing lovey-dovey nicknames now, Bossman?"

He grinned at her. "Just while you're hungover."

She snorted, turning her attention back to Ares. "Alright, so there will be at least two others with him, but what do you know about Remitun himself?"

Ares took out his box of cigarettes and knocked it on the counter before pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. "One word. Biotic."

Jasmine's eyebrows crept up her face. "I thought Cabals were kept separate. They're a part of Blackwatch?"

Ares hummed, the sound turning into the word 'no' as he dug around in his pocket, eyes squinted as if in concentration. Flicking his mandibles, he finally pulled out his lighter and looked at her. "He started in a Cabal unit, but he showed enough potential. Took a lot of work, but he was accepted based on merit and got out of that little classification of 'biotic turian.'"

She pursed her lips, mulling it over as she sat her mug back down. Sliding off the stool, she made her way into the kitchen, past Isaac, to pull down the saucer Ares' used for an ashtray the night before. Hearing the flick of his lighter, she dumped out the residual ashes and cigarette butts. Reaching across the breakfast bar, she slid it over to him, and then she went to open the balcony door.

"Don't suppose you know what biotic skills he uses?" Isaac asked as Jasmine sat back down.

Ares rumbled around his cigarette, taking a drag before letting the smoke drift from his mouth when he answered, "Reave is a favorite. Then you have the occasional Stasis, and a hell of a Barrier."

Jasmine watched Isaac as he watched Ares, the man's face impassable. She couldn't tell whether or not any of it would be a problem for him, and seeing as he was the only biotic on their little team—well, she assumed Ares wasn't biotic, they'd never actually talked about it so she couldn't be certain—it very well might fall to him to decide the best tactics to counter Remitun's abilities.

* * *

Waiting until Jasmine turned from examining her handler's expression, Ares flicked his eyes between the two before blowing out the smoke that had settled on his tongue. "I assume you know how to identify a turian without an insignia to go off of?" he asked Jasmine before taking another drag.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, did you recognize me this morning without my makeup?"

Ares snorted and Ray laughed from his side of the kitchen. Flicking his mandibles in exasperation, Ares shrugged and blew out wisps of smoke. He'd leave the question at that, least they run into a 'humans are all racist' or 'turians are all racist' argument.

Ray leaned closer and Ares quirked a brow plate when the man cupped a hand to cover his mouth, much like in the vids, yet did nothing to truly lower his voice. "I'll pay you a hundred credits to call her Sunshine for the rest of the day."

Chuckling, Ares smirked at Jasmine's irritated growl and rumbled. "I'd take that offer, but only if she calls me something in turn." He leaned slightly closer to her, grinning wider when she cocked an eyebrow. "Tell me, Sunshine, what can you come up with?"

"I _will_ shoot you." She lifted her mug to her lips, but it failed to hide the twitch of a smile. "Both of you."

Ares grunted as he leaned back. "That'd be some interesting foreplay," he said before taking a drag, holding it for a moment, then exhaled as she chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm not sure about Ray, though. You'd have to take it up with him."

Ray smirked at Jasmine, stating, "Nah, I keep telling her she does nothing for me."

"Yeah, and your need to keep saying it only makes me think you're saying if for your own sake." She lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe Bossman isn't as gay as he likes to think?"

Isaac laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry, Sunshine, no chance."

"Good," Ares agreed, flicking ash onto the small plate as he smirked. "This way you two don't have to worry about me being distracted, I'll just keep you both in two separate rooms and switch between them."

Jasmine snorted, turning her attention back to her laptop. "Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night … Sweet Pea."

"You're lucky I know that's an actual endearment and not you just calling me a vegetable," Ares said before taking a drag and motioning to the laptop. Blowing out, he leaned closer before flicking his eyes between each of the two humans. "So, we going to talk about the actual mission now? You know, how the hunt will go down before it all goes to shit?"

Jasmine hissed between her teeth, shooting him an exaggerated glare. "Don't jinx it!"

Ares laughed, leaning back and taking another drag. "Please, you need to always expect it to go wrong. That way you'll either be prepared when it goes wrong, or pleasantly surprised when it goes right."

Taking a deep breath, her features relaxed, and she let out a wary sigh. "I do. Christ, trust me, I do." She shifted in her seat, turning her laptop a little so he could more easily see the screen. "This is _The Caleria's_ docking location, they've already reserved the space. Apparently the ship makes a lot of runs between the Citadel and other places, transporting people and goods." She pointed a finger at the screen, tracing a path overlaid on the blueprints. "This is the path I think he's most likely to take to get to the Presidium, unless you think he'd go a different way? There's less traffic, more access to catwalks, and a smaller C-Sec presence."

"And it's actually a pretty straight-forward route," Ares added, nodding. "Yeah, I don't see why he wouldn't take it. Sometimes the seemingly simple option is better than doing some crazy shit all over the Citadel."

"Of course, he may decide to use the Citadel Rapid Transit. In which case," she said, changing screens to show a map of the airspace where skycars were permitted, and she traced out another path, "this would be the fastest and easiest. Assuming he'd use manual controls instead of the automatic system. I'm guessing he's going to anticipate an attempt by the Alliance to stop him from reaching the Council, so if I were him, I'd want manual control."

Ares leaned back and motioned to keep going, not hearing anything he really had any objection to yet. All in all, Jasmine had a good enough handle of where Remitun should go—if he was smart, anyways. Ares could try to remind her that there was always _that_ possibility of their target doing something completely off script, but, then again, turians were nothing if not a predictable people, especially those strict to their training and habits. He would know, he used to be one of those very turians.

Ray gently cleared his throat, shifting his weight to push back from the counter before turning his own laptop around. "I plan to wait near the docks and follow him on foot. I'm putting Ramona on the catwalks," he said, glancing at Jasmine. "Which means you need to be prepared to deal with Kaeslio." Ray watched her until she nodded, then turned his attention back to the laptop, pointing at the locations on the screen. "Nemos, you're our guest here, so I figured I'd let you decide where you'd like to be."

Setting his cigarette between his mouth plates, Ares hummed in thought. "As you can probably tell, I'm not that unremarkable," he said with a snort, and Ray chuckled. "And I sure as hell know they'd pick up on me." He reached over and tapped a spot along the path where an alley opened up into a maintenance tunnel. "I've been through there before. Enough cover to hide my ugly ass."

Ray and Jasmine both studied the spot a moment before Ray nodded. "Works for me. Ramona?"

"I don't see why not." She pursed her lips, nodding. "With a little luck, we'll be able to cut him off there and take him out without drawing any attention. We'll have to move quick to retrieve the OSD, clear his omni-tool in case he has a backup. Pray like hell no one else has a copy."

"Works for me." Ares shrugged and stamped out the last of his cigarette on the plate and stood up, rolling his bad shoulder. "So, is that it? Or anything else I should know about it? Minus all the actual reasons behind this because, let's face it, I don't give a shit."

Jasmine grinned at him, that mischievous glint to her eyes that made her slightly more tolerable to him than most humans. "I think that's it for now. There's too many variables to plan much further, we'll have to be prepared to adapt to whatever situation we find ourselves in, just like any other job."

Good enough for him, Ares grabbed his empty plate from breakfast, walked around Ray, and dumped it in the sink with a clank of the fork against the porcelain. "About time. Too much planning … Or maybe that's just because I'm not used to having others to hunt with," he added, snorting as he turned around and leaned back against the counter and smirked. "Should be fun to see how good of a team player I still am."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the sink. She sucked on her teeth before her lips turned up in a smile. "Funny, I don't remember giving birth to a turian." She cocked an eyebrow. "Wash your plate, I'm not your momma."

Ares growled softly in challenge and crossed his arms. "Or?"

"Well, normally here's when I'd say, 'Or I'll shoot you.' But we've already established that shit would just turn you on." She smirked. "So, instead, I'll say wash your plate or I won't take you back to the arena with me tomorrow morning."

Snorting, Ares walked to the breakfast bar to lean on it, looking her right in the eyes. "And then who'll hit those targets you miss?"

Scoffing, she crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up a little as she leaned toward him against the counter. "Don't act like all your shots landed, because I know damn well they didn't."

He made it painfully obvious that her new posture wasn't doing anything to back her authoritative attempt to get him to clean up a plate—he was going to tend to anyways—by pointedly looking at her breasts. Smirking, he pointed a talon at them. "You're not really convincing me that you'll dish out any punishment I won't want."

She glanced down at her chest before raising her gaze back to him. "Clean the plate, and I'll think about letting you see them."

He snorted and made an attempt to exaggerate an eye roll for her sake. "Right. You have no idea how many times I heard that before." Pushing off of the counter, he turned to the sink and turned on the water to let it get nice and hot. "All talk, no showing. And _definitely_ no touching."

He heard her chuckle. "Hmmm. You never know. I might let you sneak a peek."

"And that's my cue to go," Ray said. "You two sound like a married couple already. Deal with your hangover, Sunshine. I'm letting you have the day off to rest, but I expect you to be ready first thing in the morning."

"You got it, Bossman," she answered, followed by the sound of shuffling and retreating footsteps.

Ares waited for the sound of the door to close once more before glancing over his shoulder. "You really have _that bad_ of a hangover?"

She shrugged. "Nope." Picking up her cup of coffee, she smiled. "Coffee helped, and he knows it. He's just being … nice. Which is an oddity I'm still getting used to."

He hummed in thought at that, remembering the ways instructors would 'be nice', only to make the training of the next day all that worse to make up for the lost time. He had no idea if that was how those two worked, but it wasn't really something he'd look into. Wasn't like Ray had any command to make Ares do anything he'd much rather just sit out and watch Jasmine suffer through. It was entertaining to watch now that he didn't have to put up with that shit anymore.

Hitting the faucet controls with the back of his hand, he dropped the clean plate in the dry rack, the fork following with a clink. He huffed in a mock pout and added a whining tone to his vocals as he said, "Fine. There. Happy?"

Turning around, he came face to face with the sight of Jasmine with her shirt and bra lifted, smirk painted over her face. He rumbled and fluttered his mandibles at her breasts before looking her in the eyes. "Nice, but now you don't have any ammunition to keep me in line unless you threaten to take off your pants."

She snorted, tugging her clothes back into place. "Please. I've always got ammunition. Besides, they're just tits. Do you have any idea how many guys I've shown them to over the years to get my way? Out of smokes, show some dude my tits. Need a place to crash for a night that isn't freezing cold? Show some dude my tits. Jonesing for a hit of red sand …" She stopped, something ghosting over her eyes. "You get the picture."

Ares shrugged. "Sure, but I like looking at tits, so I won't complain at seeing them, even if they belong to an asari stripper. We all know everyone's seen those, but so long as it's free, I won't _not_ look." Chuckling, he grabbed the plate with his spent cigarette and walked into the living room to sit on one of the couches and stretch out. "Do you know how many people have seen my dick? A lot, but that doesn't stop me from whipping it out whenever the hell I feel like it," he said, smirking at her over the back of the couch.

She snorted, carrying her empty plate and glass to the sink, turning on the water. "Except for maybe those pesky indecent exposure charges." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You're like … maybe the second turian I've ever met who has any interest in breasts." She furrowed her brow a little. "Most are far more interested in my waist and any places bones show through my skin."

"Comes from sleeping with enough humans," Ares explained, pulling out his cigarettes. "Sure, a good waist can get me unplated fast, but you have to learn what makes a certain species react the right way." Sticking one in his mouth, he reached into his pocket for his lighter and chuckled. "I'll go for asses, tits, waists, cocks, cunts, you name it, I'll go for it."

"God, I hate that word." She turned off the water, dropping her dishes into the drainer with an audible clunk. "Cunt is so … I don't know, derogatory, I guess. That asshole the other night called me a cunt." The soft padding of her bare feet across the floor alerted him to her approach, and he looked up as she said, "That being said, I do like a good pussy, too." She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling her feet up as she turned sideways, balancing her coffee cup on her knees.

"Species?" He lifted a brow plate as he lit his cigarette.

"I'm not picky," she grinned, lifting her cup to her lips. "Though … I do think I'd have to draw the line at elcor or hanar …. I'm just not _that_ adventurous." She hummed. "I'd probably have to be pretty drunk to fuck a volus … I mean, I don't even know _what_ those guys have going on under those suits."

Blowing out smoke through his mouth plates, he snorted. "Only volus can have sex with volus in the literal sense, you know? Even pressure seals like quarians have wouldn't work for them." He brought the cigarette to his mouth, and she sipped her coffee, nodding. "One rupture and," he said before inhaling and blowing it out into a round cloud, "poof. Dead." He chuckled and looked to her before shrugging. "I'm sure any cross species shit going on there is all done by nerve stims."

She smirked. "And of course, if one of us tried to go to their homeworld, we'd either die within a few seconds of breathing their piss atmosphere or be crushed to death before anyone could have any fun at all."

He snorted and nodded, letting smoke rest on his tongue before exhaling. "Right. Although, I wouldn't necessarily say there's anything wrong with the nerve stim route." Chuckling, he laid his head against the back of the couch. "I once had a training exercise that basically boiled down to trying to snipe in armor with a nerve stim running to test my concentration."

She barked a laugh. "Was this Hierarchy approved training? Because, I gotta say, maybe I should defect if that's the way you guys do things."

Ares laughed in turn and looked back to her, smirking. "Well, the instructor said that we needed a hell of a distraction, and he didn't necessarily find anything that said we _couldn't_ use them. I think he took that as a part of his regular trainings later."

"Hmmm." She tilted her head back, draining the last of her coffee. "I'm pretty sure in the Alliance—not the Phantoms, maybe, but the Alliance in general—that shit would've gotten the instructor slapped with half a dozen sexual harassment charges."

Snorting, Ares twitched his nose at remembrance of some of the ridiculous regulations the Alliance military had. "Well, your people have fraternization rules, so I'm not surprised. Hell, your species likes to think sex is some deep, dark shame, as if no one else is fucking out there."

She sat the empty cup down on the table before draping one of her arms over the back of the couch. "Meh. Depends on the culture. Honestly, we're so fucking varied as a people, we've spent most of our existence fighting with each other over whose way is ' _right'_ and whose is ' _wrong.'_ " Shrugging, she watched him as he lifted his cigarette to his mouth. "Even within our different cultures, we have subcultures to attend to. Like … I have a lot of different views and mannerisms I learned on the streets as a kid, but if you compared me to someone else from the same city who had a normal childhood, we wouldn't even have the same understanding of what certain words mean." She grinned. "Ironically, a lot of those translated over well to my training. Assassin culture isn't too different from street culture."

Ares nodded and flicked ash onto the plate. "Sounds like colony cultures and the like." Shrugging, he looked to her. "I don't really know shit about that, anyways, so I could just be talking bullshit."

"I bet you know more than you realize, even with having spent however long it's been removed from your people's societies." Jasmine watched his cigarette's movements again and huffed. "You're going to turn me back into a smoker."

"Don't. These things will kill you." Ares paused, the cigarette inches from his mouth as he realized those were the _exact_ words said to him many years ago by the old bastard that got him hooked on the disgusting things.

She hummed. "Yeah … I know. I quit for basic, pretty damn hard to run when you can't breathe, but I still miss them sometimes."

She snapped him out of his stupor, and he looked at her, taking a moment to go over what she just said. Rumbling, he shrugged and tried to play his distraction off. "I don't know, get something chasing after you and you'll run pretty damn good no matter what shit you're smoking."

"Maybe. Depends on the shoes I'm wearing." Smiling, she stretched her legs out, her feet just barely stopping before touching his leg. "Ah, the things we girls do to look pretty."

Ares hummed, looking at her foot and holding his cigarette away from himself as he lifted a brow plate at her. "Is that so…" he said as he reached down and ghosted the very tips of his talons along the bottom of her foot to test her sensitivity. When she yelped, jerking her foot away and retaliated by throwing a pillow at him, Ares laughed and relaxed back into his seat to place his cigarette in his mouth. "How did I know you'd be, what is it, ticklish?"

"Yes, it's ticklish. And, I don't know, but that's not fair. I wasn't expecting it." She huffed, blowing a loose tendril of hair out of her face.

He grinned and ground his cigarette out on the plate. "That's the point. It doesn't work as well when you're _expecting_ it."

She pouted, sticking out her lower lip. "I swear it's got to be one of the stupidest residual reflexes humans have."

Ares snorted and stretched out his legs, pushing the coffee table with his feet so it wasn't in the way. "Yeah, turians don't have that on our feet. Sure, we have sensitive spots, but they don't get _that_ kind of reaction. It's usually much more pleasurable," he added with a chuckle.

"Tickling isn't … _displeasurable_ it's really hard to explain." She made an odd face, screwing her lips off to one side. "I mean, some people love it. Kids really get a kick out of it, sometimes. Though, some others it can really freak out, too. It cause involuntary muscle spasms, and for a lot of people it makes them laugh, so if a person doesn't stop tickling them, it can start to feel like they're not getting enough air, causing panic."

"I stand by what I always say," Ares said as he reached for another cigarette. "Humans are strange."


	5. Building Trust

**Building Trust**

"I still don't see the reason we have to go _out_ to eat," Ares protested as he finally had the chance to get out of the cramped taxi skycar, stretching his back to hear the bones crackle and pop. "We have plenty of food at your place."

Jasmine had chosen to go to—no surprise— _Le Blue_ for lunch, all but giving Ares a pouty lip to convince him. He could understand wanting to get some air, he wasn't completely dense to knowing the benefits of a change of scenery, but spending credits to eat expensive food while perfectly fine meals awaited them at the apartment was a different matter. He didn't understand the point of her buying so much food to stock her place when she planned to just go out to find someplace to eat instead.

She huffed, glancing up at him long enough to roll her eyes before surprising him, linking her arm through his and tugging him along as she started to walk. "Because, I like this place, and I said so."

Humming, Ares more walked than let himself be pulled by the human less than half his size. The fact that she'd need to have a good number of kilos added to her weight before she could really get the intended effect of her gesture was quite entertaining, and probably why Ares didn't initially react in the negative to her sudden touch. Not that he didn't feel like a massive child being carted around by a miniscule mother.

He was older than the woman, for Spirits' sake, not a fledgling.

Passing by a sign announcing to patrons to seat themselves if planning to sit on the small veranda, Jasmine tugged Ares along and between the too-close-tables spread out over the covered porch. Ares thrummed in approval when she guided him to the table they had chosen the last time he was there with her and her drell, the one with the best view of both the inner restaurant and Citadel surrounding them. When she finally released him to sit in her own seat, Ares lifted a brow plate when she glanced up to him in expectation and pushed a chair out with her foot, probably wondering why he hadn't taken his place by her raised brow.

"What? Not going to hold my hand through the meal?" He mock sighed, mandibles flicking in upset as he pulled the seat out a bit more to make room as he sat. "I guess I'll have to suffer without, you damn tease."

She snorted, that same mischief in her eyes. "I mean, if it'll stop your whining about having to leave the apartment …."

He rumbled, meeting her gaze as he pulled out a menu from the holder where they'd been tucked away behind the wooden napkin and condiment compartments. "If I didn't want both my hands to eat, I'd agree," he said before turning to his menu and sighing wistfully, "but, alas, I am more hungry than desperate for physical affection."

She chuckled, shaking her head in his peripherals. "We both know you're just going to order another slab of dead animal, so why bother with the menu?"

"Contrary to what you may think, turians actually put seasoning on our food or cook it differently." Ares snorted and dropped the menu down into the holder, figuring he'd eat the special. It sounded like some kind of fusion, a piece of louza covered in ground grains that were claimed to be 'cooked into a crispy breading'. It certainly wouldn't kill him or make him sick—the meat at least being dextro—so he might as well try it just to prove Jasmine wrong. "And I can describe a lot of human food as 'another slab of dead animal.'"

She grinned at him. "Oh, I know _turians_ do, just not so sure about _you_. All I've ever seen you eat is xemna." She glanced at one of the menus. "But of course, now I've said something, you'll probably order something different just to prove me wrong—which will now prove me right either way." She lifted a cocky eyebrow, gaze still on the menu. "I'm not complaining though, I love me some slabs of dead animal. In fact, I think I'm going to order a slab of dead animal chopped up and thrown in with some dead plants … and some French fries on the side." She closed the menu, turning her attention back to him. "I know a few turian dishes, I can make you dinner tonight, if you want."

Ares lifted a brow plate, noticing a waitress closing in. "Holding hands _and_ dinner? Your drell is in for a challenge."

Before he could get Jasmine's reaction, the turian waitress—with an incredible waist, Ares openly admitted—stopped at the head of their table and smiled, purring invitingly. "I'm sorry for the wait," she said, looking between Ares and Jasmine before settling on the human woman. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Jasmine flashed a smile at the waitress, the same smile Ares had seen her use with all manner of wait staff, somehow both friendly and flirtatious. "Do you happen to have _elocol_?"

Mandibles fluttering, the waitress shifted her weight, sounding flustered when she said, "I'm not sure what that is, but I don't believe it's something we serve."

Jasmine let out a soft sigh and nodded. "I'm not surprised, it's okay. I'll have iced tea, please."

Happy with the more comfortable option, it seemed, the waitress rumbled and smiled again as she gave a slight nod. "Of course, ma'am." She turned to Ares, and he shifted, smirking as she let herself give him a once over. "And for you, sir?"

Ares thrummed softly and lowered his voice, raising a hand. "No, 'sir,' please. Makes me feel old," he said before adding a suggestive purring to his vocals. "What would you suggest?" He huffed a chuckle. "You know what? How about you surprise me?"

The waitress trilled softly in her throat, and her smile widened, her mandibles twitching. The woman was definitely interested by her slow response, but she quickly nodded with a soft chirp. "Of course!" Ares could tell she almost called him 'sir' again and grinned at the fact that she caught herself, as if trying to impress him. "I'll get those drinks right out," she said before giving him a final look and heading back into the restaurant.

Ares watched her walk, his trysts with other species letting him appreciate parts of the body most would overlook. One in particular being the retreating turian's ass and how her gait made it sway in time with her hips, that thin waist of hers flexing and twisting beneath her dress. He also thought there was a human saying, 'she had legs for miles,' and definitely agreed to it as he let his eyes roam up the waitress' long, limber legs until the time she moved out of his view.

Jasmine let out a soft snort. "Now what would she have thought if we were holding hands?"

"Nothing," Ares said, looking back to Jasmine, and rumbled as he shook his head. "Honestly, turians are much more open about it. If I suggest anything to her and she doesn't agree, she says so. If she does the suggesting and I denied her, then that's that. Besides, I smell nothing like you, so it's pretty damn easy to tell there's nothing between us."

She rolled her eyes. "You take everything way too literal sometimes." She smiled, tossing the menu back on the table. "So, she's cute. She seemed to be into you. You should go for it."

"Thanks, mom," Ares remarked, flicking his mandible in exasperation. "That's what I'm doing."

Jasmine grinned. "Good. And, you probably smell at least a little like me, you've been sleeping in my apartment, sitting on my couch."

Ares scoffed and leaned back in his seat. "If that kind of thing turned any turian away from attempting anything, then we'd be celibate our entire lives. I could be covered in someone's scent just by working with someone in, say, the same office, but that wouldn't mean we're fucking… unfortunately."

"Oh, I know. And most turians aren't territorial over those they're with unless they've claimed them as a mate. I'm just making the point you said you smell 'nothing' like me—since we're being literal." She grinned. "You just don't smell like you've had sex with me."

"No …. You smell like a drell." Ares snorted, crossing his arms. "I smell like I've been staying with a human, and that human smells like she's been staying with a drell. So, nothing like each other."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, tucking her head down to sniff at herself. "Seriously? I still smell like him? I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks."

"Faintly." Tapping his nose, he thrummed and added, "It's the venom. It sticks around longer than most other species' scents."

"Huh." A soft smile spread over her mouth. "I think I'm okay with that. Though … now I should make sure to use extra scent masking soap on the job."

Ares snorted as he caught the waitress returning with two glasses in her hands, a light brown for Jasmine, he assumed, and a faintly purple one for him. Just by the look, he had a very strong feeling he was going to hate it. Too many people had horrible tastes, and he felt like the stranger the color, the worse it was.

"Here you go, ma'am," the woman said, mandibles fluttering in a smile as she set Jasmine's drink on a small coaster on the table before sliding it closer to the human woman. "One iced tea. Did you want me to bring anything to mix into it? Some sweetener?"

"Sure." Jasmine pulled the glass a little closer to her before her gaze darted back to the waitress, the hints of a smile tugging at her lips. "Hey, what do I smell like to you?"

Ares very nearly let his amusement show through in his vocals when the waitress stopped, hand holding his own glass hovering over the table as she looked to Jasmine with a surprised, yet confused look on her features. "Ma'am?"

"No, really. What do I smell like to you?" Jasmine's gaze flicked to Ares then back to the waitress. "Humor me."

"You smell …." Clearly lost on what _exactly_ to tell the human about her scent, the waitress looked to Ares, and he merely shrugged, rumbling in encouragement to go ahead and try her luck trying to figure out what the hell Jasmine wanted. Turians could smell more than most all species, but sometimes telling people what scents they had on them tended to be frowned upon as 'rude'. "You smell like a human, I guess? I don't know … like spices?" Her mandibles flicked nervously, and Ares hid his smile, merely nodding as if intrigued by the answers. "And some kind of sweet scent … maybe your hair cleaner?"

"Spices?" Jasmine raised an eyebrow, letting her face morph into curiosity, the gesture obviously intentional to Ares, but probably not so much to the waitress.

"Yes … I …." The waitress began to fidget, and Ares was pretty sure she was wondering if that would affect her tip. Hell, for the torment, he figured Jasmine would give the woman a break in that aspect with a decent reimbursement over the cultural taunting. "Like some the cooks use to make … desserts…."

Jasmine smiled and hummed. "Thank you, you're a good sport. I'll leave you alone now."

The woman visibly sagged with relief as a long breath escaped her. She glanced towards Ares, but he gave her no real reaction to the strange human. After a moment filled with an obvious tension of whether or not the waitress should bolt and forget ever taking their order, she cleared her throat. "Um … Can I take your orders or do you need more time?"

Jasmine leaned back in her chair, eyes practically sparkling with her amusement. "I'll have the Caesar salad with chicken and a side of fries."

"I hear that's a very excellent choice, ma'am," the waitress said with a pleasant thrum before turning to Ares, all flirtatious vocals gone. Dammit, Jasmine. "And for you, sir?"

Ares flicked a narrow-eyed look to Jasmine before looking back to the waitress and giving her a friendly rumble. "The dextro special."

"Very well, sir."

"Awww, come on, don't go back to 'sir' just because the crazy human asked you an odd question." Jasmine lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip, gaze flicking between the waitress and Ares. "I mean, he's a saint for putting up with me. He deserves better than 'sir.'"

That only seemed to confuse the waitress more as she flicked her eyes between Jasmine and Ares before nodding slowly. "Okay. I won't call you 'sir' anymore…."

Ares was quiet long enough to see the waitress go, getting out of hearing range before he turned a glare on Jasmine. "Was that necessary?"

She schooled her features, setting down her glass. "No, no it wasn't. My apologies."

He snorted, not convinced, and took a drink, finding it one of the worst things he'd ever put in his mouth. Coughing, he set the glass of the sugary—nearly syrupy—drink on the table and saw Jasmine grin as she reached for it. "That woman has the worst tastes."

Taking a sip, she hummed, moving her head side to side. "It's not so bad."

"By all means," he said, waving a hand towards the glass. "Have at it. I'd rather lick a krogan's ass than drink that shit."

Jasmine scrunched up her nose. "Ew. Want to try my tea?"

He lifted a brow. "I take it the reason she asked you about sweetener is because it doesn't have any yet?"

She nodded, pushing her glass across the table toward him. "This place doesn't pre-sweeten the tea unless you ask them to."

Ares took the glass of light brown liquid and smelled it first. The scent didn't immediately make him cringe, so he took it as a good sign so far. Setting the glass to his mouth plates, he took a drink. While not exactly what he'd have chosen before, it does remind him slightly of something his mother used to drink with her sisters, only cold and less fragrant than the dextro drink. "Better than whatever that other shit is."

"Jasmine?" A soft, hiss of a voice to the side drew both of their attentions.

Setting the glass down, he flicked his mandibles at the sight of two children, one human and one turian. He recognized the human from the other night, the skinny child with messy, dirty hair who, through some kind of relationship with her, kept Jasmine and Ares' involvement quiet to C-Sec. Ares couldn't quite recognize much else with the human child—not really having been around enough—beyond the scent of the ducts on him and the younger turian child. The turian he could examine much better, get a clearer picture of from his too dry, uncleaned plates, the unmolted ones cracked—definitely an uncomfortable feeling from Ares' own memories of molts. The boy's face was unmarked, but he turned away, mandibles fluttering in embarrassment before Ares could tell too much about him from his face.

"Hey." Jasmine's voice was soft, a genuine smile spreading over her face as she waved the children forward.

The human—the one she called Mouse that night—hopped over the low, unsturdy fence surrounding the patio, a grin on his face. A moment later, the turian scrambled over the top, following in the human's footsteps as they wove through the tables to get to Jasmine. Mouse pulled out a chair, sitting down comfortably next to Jasmine despite the odd looks cast his way from the other patrons in the restaurant. The turian lingered behind Mouse, his gaze flicking to Ares with unease.

"Sit down, Talak. It's alright, he's a friend of mine." Jasmine jerked her head toward the empty chair, and the turian took a seat.

The human, obviously either less shy or less intimidated by Ares than the turian, narrowed his eyes at Ares. After a moment, he turned back to Jasmine and whispered, "Is he the same guy?"

Jasmine's gaze flicked to Ares, eyebrow twitching in question, and he shrugged, indifferent to the answer. The kid wasn't really asking him, didn't trust him, but at least he wasn't pointing out that Ares wasn't as fucked up looking as that night. Damn children were sometimes too observant and inquisitive, and he hated it, leading him to avoid them often.

The kid sat back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh when she nodded. "I need to talk to you," he said, his voice pitched low, gaze darting around.

Jasmine glanced around, her gaze scanning the crowd, and Ares knew she was gauging the distance between herself and any prying ears. Turning her attention back to Mouse, she nodded. "What's up?"

"I got a message from C-Sec on my omni-tool. They want me to come in and talk to them about the other night," Mouse whispered, leaning a little closer to Jasmine as he delivered the last of his message. "What do you want me to do?"

Jasmine pursed her lips. "It's been taken care of, so long as you don't tell them anything you haven't already said, it's not a problem. So, it's your call. Go in or don't." She shrugged a little, glancing at Ares again before her gaze drifted to Talak. "What have you told the others?"

Mouse furrowed his brow at her. "I didn't tell anyone anything 'sides for Talak. Had to tell him, he was waiting for me and saw C-Sec coming."

Jasmine snorted, holding up a hand in surrender. "Alright, alright. You don't need to give me the stink eye." She glanced at Talak, sliding the sugary drink she'd taken from Ares toward the kid. "Did you talk to C-Sec at all?"

Talak fluttered his mandibles, picking up the glass and bringing it to his mouth as he shook his head. "There wasn't any reason for me to."

* * *

Jasmine let out a soft sigh. Christ, the kids looked like crap. She wondered how they'd been holding up with Thane and her both off the Citadel, but she told herself surely they had other people who helped them out. And if not, they survived before her and Thane, they knew how to survive with them gone. Seeing them outside of the heat of battle, adrenaline not coursing through her veins, she started to wonder if she'd been wrong.

"Good." She nodded to Talak. "There still isn't any reason for you to."

Talak chirped a little between swallows, nodding his head again.

"Where are the others?" She glanced back at Mouse.

The kid shrugged. "They're around. Mila's chatting up a couple of asari on the other side of the Wards. Tourists. They'll probably try to convince her to go with them to Thessia, when that doesn't work, they'll give her credits." He smirked. "Sarah and Connor got a krogan to buy them lunch."

Jasmine chuckled, she believed it. Those two never did warm up to her really, but they looked pathetic enough to soften even the gruffest of people. "When the waitress gets here, order something for yourselves and something to take back for all of you for later." She glanced at Ares again, finding his gaze more often than not on the younger turian. She wondered what thoughts churned behind his gruff exterior, she could tell something about the situation bothered him, but even though he kept looking at Talak, it didn't really seem to be about the kid.

She tore her gaze away from Ares and glanced between Talak and Mouse. "Suppose it's my fault for not telling you, but in public, for now at least, call me Ramona. Okay?" She smiled when both boys nodded, taking her request with aplomb. She held her hand out toward Ares. "And this is …" She trailed off, inviting him to fill in the blank as he saw fit.

He shrugged and took a drink from Jasmine's tea, swallowing. "Ares is as fine as anything else."

Talak twitched his brow plates, giving Ares a cautious, doubtful glance. "Ares?"

Ares rumbled and looked to the younger turian, huffing a laugh. "Yeah, gave myself the name. Long story, though."

Talak tilted his head a little, seeming to mull it over before shrugging. The waitress rounded the corner, carrying a plate in each hand and stopped, her eyes growing a little wider as she took in Jasmine and Ares' new lunch companions. To be fair, Jasmine had really already thrown one hell of a curve ball at the turian, so she couldn't really be blamed for the look of distress crossing her features. Jasmine smiled at the waitress, hoping to show her there wasn't any issue to be worried about. She remembered the last time Rift hopped the fence to join her at the tables, the waiter nearly shit himself trying to apologize to her.

Fluttering her mandibles, the waitress gave Jasmine a weak smile and finished weaving her way through the tables to set the plates down in front of Jasmine and Ares. Before Jasmine could tell the waitress she wanted to order food for the kids, too, Ares shoved his plate in front of Talak.

Standing, he glanced down at the kid. "Eat." He pulled out his box of cigarettes and walked away from the table without another word, leaving Jasmine with an uneasy feeling.

Talak didn't waste any time, digging into the dish.

She brushed it off, turning her attention back to the waitress. "I'd like to place another order, please."

"Of course, ma'am. What can I get for you?" the waitress asked, straightening up, attention firmly on Jasmine.

Jasmine glanced at the two kids before looking back to the waitress. "Whatever my two friends here ask for, they'll be taking it to go. Add it to my bill."

Mandibles fluttering softly, the waitress smiled, turning her attention to Talak. "Very well, what can I get for you, sir?"

Jasmine let her attention wander while the two boys placed their orders, she knew Mouse would take full advantage of the offer and stock up the best he could. Letting her gaze roam over the crowd, she realized she'd lost track of Ares. She let out a sigh, hoping whatever bothered him didn't keep him from coming back to the table once he smoked his cigarette.

"Ramona?" Mouse nudged her, and she turned her attention back to him. "Is that too much?"

She didn't bother telling him she didn't even hear what he ordered. Instead, she smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all."

Mouse smiled at her, turning his attention back to the waitress. "Can you bring ours out front? I think we're scaring your other customers." He smirked, but Jasmine saw the hint of wounded pride in the boy's eyes.

"You sure?" Jasmine lifted an eyebrow, reaching across the table to put her hand on his forearm.

He nodded. "Yeah, we've got a couple of places we wanted to check out anyway."

She forced a smile, even though a part of her wanted to stand up and yell at all the prying eyes. Hell, it was probably what sent Ares running. She nodded. "Alright."

"Not a problem." The waitress turned her attention back to Jasmine. "Should I bring another plate for your friend?" she asked as Talak's fork scraped up the last of what should've been Ares' lunch.

"Yes, please. And … another glass of tea for me, if you don't mind." Jasmine considered asking her to bring something different for Ares to drink instead but thought better of it.

The waitress nodded, excusing herself from the table. Mouse stood, leaning over to wrap his arm around Jasmine's shoulders in a quick hug before making his way back to the fence. She guessed it was less embarrassing for him than walking through the crowded tables to the patio's gate. A moment later, Talak did the same, his boney arm sharp against her neck. She could tell the gesture was awkward for the kid, and he only did it because he thought it made her happy. She made a mental note to talk to him about it later, let him know he wasn't obligated to hug her if it made him uncomfortable.

Within seconds of the kids disappearing over the fence and back around toward the front of the restaurant, a looming shadow fell over her. Jasmine tensed, turning her head to glance at the source. Her stomach flipped when her gaze caught sight of C-Sec blue armor. Lifting her gaze up the long, turian body, she smirked, recognizing the face of Officer Garrus Vakarian.

"Hey," she said, turning in her chair to face him. Maybe it was a good thing Ares disappeared on her. "Garrus, right?" Of course she didn't need to ask. Jasmine didn't forget names, it was a part of her job, but sometimes it made people uncomfortable. Not to mention she'd just been talking to Ares about the other turian a couple of days before.

He smiled, his mandibles fluttering as he moved a little closer, gesturing at the chair Mouse vacated. "Mind if I sit down?"

She pushed her lips down at the corners, shaking her head. "Not at all." She watched him as he pulled the chair out a little further, glancing around before he finally sat. "So, what brings you here?" Unease settled in around her shoulders, warning bells going off in the back of her head, telling her it wasn't strictly a social call.

Garrus fluttered his mandibles, humming a little. "Well, hmmm. I was investigating something, and I saw you sitting over here." He shrugged. "I thought I might come say hello."

Leaning back in her chair, she lifted an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Well, now I feel special." She grinned at his awkward chuff and let her gaze roam. A second later, her gaze snagged on Ares, tucked back in the shadows watching her. She didn't let her eyes stop on him for very long, continuing her sweep of the area. Bringing her attention back to Garrus, she tilted her head to the side a little. "So, are you on your lunch break, or are you being a bad cop and sitting down on the job," she asked, flashing him a playful grin.

He chuckled, the iris of his visor contracting as he looked at her. "There's nothing that says I can't take a break every now and again." He hummed, leaning to brace his forearms against the table, watching her. "But, now that you mention it … I _am_ still on the clock. I caught sight of a kid who called in a bunch of dead humans the other night." He paused watching her, and she kept her expression neutral. "A few of them dead, anyway. Two of them survived."

She widened her eyes, affecting surprise at the story. "Lucky them."

He hummed, glancing down at her hand on the table. Jasmine knew he'd probably just checked out the residual scrapes she hadn't bothered to put Medi-gel on, they were too small for her to care, inconsequential.

"Funny thing is … when they woke up, they gave one of the officers the description of a human female who attacked them, but then something happened to the records." He flared his mandibles. "They just disappeared, and now those two men are claiming they can't remember what happened."

Picking up her fork, she speared some of her salad, bringing it to her mouth before she asked, "You think they were paid off or something?"

Garrus flicked his mandibles, narrowing his eyes at her. "Hmmm. Maybe. My superiors told me to let it go, but … I kept thinking about the description of the woman, thinking she sounded familiar. I didn't make the connection until I saw the kid come up to you today."

She chewed, salad turning to ash on her tongue, and lifted an eyebrow. "Are you insinuating something, Officer?"

Garrus hummed. "The trajectory of the shot fired would've come from someone about your height." He fluttered his mandibles and shook his head. "The other two dead—one with a snapped neck, the other with his throat cut—based on the blood splatter and the heights of the men, who ever killed them would've had to be taller. Much taller. Maybe as tall as the turian you were sitting with not too long ago."

Jasmine held his gaze, she already knew from Isaac someone reported a turian being with her that night, so she wasn't sure what angle Garrus hoped to play at. "Sorry, Officer Vakarian," she said, refusing to use his first name if he insisted on interrogating her at the lunch table, "I don't know anything about it."

Garrus flared his mandibles, lowering his gaze for just a second. "And if I asked off the record?"

"There's nothing I can tell you to help you with your investigation, Garrus," Jasmine said, choosing her words carefully. "But if your superiors told you to leave it alone, I'm sure there's a good reason."

Garrus chuffed, holding her gaze when he looked back up. "How do you know the kid? The human?"

She lifted the corner of her mouth. "He's one of the local duct rats, but I'm sure you already know. I met him and some of the others a while back, I buy them lunch when I can. I feel bad for them." She raised both brows. "Don't you?"

He watched her for a minute longer, sitting in silence. She could tell he wanted to keep digging, she could see it etched into the lines of his plates. Like a dog with a bone, he didn't plan to let go. The only thing keeping him from demanding she answer his questions or follow him to C-Sec, hell, maybe the only thing keeping him from slapping cuffs on her was the fact his superiors shut him down, and he seemed smart enough to know someone in the Alliance with a classified rank could cause him a world of hurt if he was wrong. Maybe even if he was right.

Tapping his talons on the table, he sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He pushed up from the table, stopping to look down at her again. "Enjoy your lunch, Ramona." He started to walk away.

"Garrus?" She turned a little to watch him.

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"These kids … they have it rough out there. Even on the Citadel. It's dangerous for them, sometimes people hurt them." She shrugged. "Maybe the kid was in trouble?"

He flared his mandibles, studying her for a moment. "Maybe."

* * *

He recognized the C-Sec officer immediately. Garrus ….

Ares still remembered when he and his younger cousin would try to out shoot each other, going out to the shooting range in Cipritine with their, at first, mock rifles. Garrus' dad was hard on him, expecting him to follow the same regiment Ares did, but with the huge difference of Ares _wanted_ to be strict to his training and Garrus just wanted to live, to enjoy his childhood. Ares envied his cousin in that, and shared Garrus' frustrations when Ares' uncle insisted.

What was worse lied in the fact that Ares had always seen his cousin going into something better than C-Sec, Blackwatch or, hell, even the Spectres. Garrus had a mind to help those around him, no matter the species, and it was being wasted there on the Citadel giving out tickets to speeding skycar owners or juveniles vandalizing the Wards' walls.

As much as Ares wished to forget his past, Garrus was like a younger— _baby_ —brother, and seeing him doing nothing but following regulations and bullshit orders didn't upset Ares so much as piss him off. No doubt Garrus' father had a hand in squandering Garrus' dreams.

Sighing, Ares rubbed his temple as whispers began to drown out the conversation between Jasmine and Garrus. Instead of hearing anything important, he started to hear the laughter and teasing he and his cousin would throw around, chasing one another through the few streets in Ares' hometown. He closed his eyes to try and will away the unwanted thoughts of them sneaking into one of the fields outside of the village to run up to the high hill where they could toss bottles for the other to shoot. They were caught more often than not, and Ares' parents had admonished them well enough, but they were never truly frightened away from testing their luck again. Even when Ares went into basic, they stayed close, Ares usually teaching his younger cousin what he had learned in training while they both imagined Garrus could do something greater, something maybe even greater than Ares himself.

As much as his pride would have been ruined, Ares wanted that.

Eyes opening, Ares saw Garrus leaving from Jasmine's table, seeming to know when to take his leave when the waitress returned with a fresh plate of food. Even from that angle, Ares could see it was a copy of the plate he gave the kid, and he shook his head in amusement that Jasmine would order another just for him. As if she was his keeper, which he'd be sure to remind her of as soon as it was clear to return to the table.

When Garrus faded into the crowds, Ares left his shadowed alcove and walked to Jasmine and his table, taking a seat. "Ordered for me, I see." He grabbed a fork, but paused when he didn't feel the same jovial atmosphere coming from her. Actually looking in her eyes for the first time since meeting them through the crowd, he noticed the tension in the air between them, her face a shade paler. "You alright?"

Her gaze focused in on him, and she gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. Just wrapping my head around the impromptu interrogation." She glanced at his plate. "And you're welcome."

Ares hummed and cut off any retort to that, glancing in the direction of where Garrus disappeared. "That the turian C-Sec you mentioned couple nights ago?"

She nodded. "He was tracking Mouse and spotted me when the kids came over. He saw you, too." She sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't tell him anything, of course, but he's suspicious. More so since Ray made the shit disappear."

Ares stabbed his fork into the breaded meat a few times, trying to pick the piece that looked _just right_ for him to start. "Yeah, he's like that." He felt a tingling sensation of being watched and looked up, meeting Jasmine's narrowed gaze. "What?"

"So, it's not just the name Vakarian you recognized, you actually know him?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jesus fuck. I hope he didn't get a good enough look at you to see who you are before you disappeared. He thinks you're responsible for at least two of the deaths."

Ares shrugged, confident his false plates had his identity covered at least to the point where his cousin wouldn't be able to place him, even if Garrus noticed a familiarity. "These prosthetics alter my plate structure a bit. Even if he saw my face, I don't look exactly like I used to, and I sure as hell don't sound like it."

She seemed to consider that for a minute before sighing and nodding. "So he's not someone you've seen in a long time, then. He's not likely to find you and try to question you." She relaxed, easing back into her chair. "His superiors told him to let it go, but I don't think he intends to listen." She snorted. "Insubordination … don't see that in many turians."

Ares laughed, swallowing the bite of decent tasting food. "Yeah, that's Garrus. He used to just do it out of spite, but now I think he just doesn't know any other way. Little bastard," he said under his breath, yet still loud enough to be heard, as he rumbled in amusement.

She lifted an eyebrow, a smile spreading over her face again, mischief back in her eyes. "Why, Ares, you sound almost _fond_ of this guy. He's no mere acquaintance, not someone you passed by every day during mandatory training …. Hmmm. You don't have to tell me, but I'm guessing either ex-lover, old friend … or family."

Ares made a clicking gag in his throat at the idea of ' _lovers'_ and stared at Jasmine in disgust. "First, that's fucking disgusting," he said as he looked down to his plate and pushed around the food into two piles, one with sauced pieces and one without. "Second, I guess you could say both of the other guesses."

She chuckled, glancing back over her shoulder at the crowd as if she could still see Garrus. "Huh. Well, first, I think he's attractive, and second, interesting to know."

Ares snorted around a bite of food before swallowing. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be against setting you and my baby cousin up. I'd play 'wingman,' if that's what it's called."

Turning back to him, she smirked. "Yeah, that's what it's called. Not that I've _ever_ needed a wingman. But, it's irrelevant," she said with a shrug, "I don't do relationships often, but when I do … I'm the all in type."

Shrugging, Ares speared another piece of meat. "Fine by me. Probably for the best, that'd be an awfully uncomfortable situation to hook up my C-Sec cousin with my assassin friend." He shoved the meat into his mouth and started to chew, flicking his fork in the direction of where Garrus disappeared to. "He'll leave it alone once something better comes up, but expect him to remember."

Jasmine snickered. "I think that's the first time you've called me ' _friend.'_ " She put her hand over her chest, batting her eyelashes. "You _do_ like me! And not just for my tits."'

Snorting, Ares swallowed. "I'd call you a fuck buddy, but you're a fucking tease."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Come on, we both know neither of us quite trusts the other enough to be _that_ vulnerable anyway. You've barely slept a wink since I invited you to stay. Tell me I'm wrong?"

"Well, if you have to go all serious with the conversation…." He rumbled and chuckled around his food before swallowing. "Don't expect much in terms of sleep. I haven't slept a good night's rest in so long that I don't even think I could get that without being drugged." He shrugged. "And since you have to go and ruin our fun, yes, you're right. One, because we're just too close in our work, and two, because of what you just told me about relationships."

"You slept in the closet … I went in your room to toss your jacket on your bed while you were in the bathroom and saw the bedding half hanging out of the closet." She lifted an eyebrow. "And I never said it means you can't keep flirting with me, it does wonders for my self-esteem."

"Eh," Ares said, knowing he'd keep doing it just because it was comfortable but not yet ready to forgive her for having to be _the one_ to go and get serious in the matter. "It just won't be the same." He exhaled in mock disappointment. "I guess I'll just have to make due with serious conversation." Dropping his fork on his empty plate, he looked to her and shrugged. "And the bed is too comfortable, the room too bright and too big, so I sleep in the closet."

She pursed her lips, watching him for a second before nodding. "Alright." She shifted a little, picking at the salad still on her plate. "You know you don't have to stay … if you'd be more comfortable somewhere else. It's not going to hurt my feelings." She pulled a shoulder in with a shrug. "It's just one of those things …. Trust building, I guess."


	6. Testing Limits

**Testing Limits**

" _Mom?" Jasmine drops her backpack on the couch, glancing around the silent house. "Mom? Are you home?"_

 _She makes her way to the hall, stopping to listen. Something about the air smells off to her, but she can't quite place what it is. "Mom?" She turns, just about to head back the other way when she sees the light shining from beneath the bathroom door. Something in the back of her mind, way down deep, tells her not to go look, but she doesn't listen._

 _Putting one hesitant foot in front of the other, she walks down the hall before coming to a stop in front of the bathroom door. "Mom?" she says, her voice starting to tremble. She lifts a hand, it's shaking, too, and she knocks on the door._

 _There's no answer. Whatever she's smelling in the air, it's stronger here. She swallows, fear twisting her insides. She settles her hand on the doorknob, but for a second, she can't find the courage to turn it. "Mom, are you in there?"_

 _Still nothing._

 _She takes a deep breath, tightening her grip on the knob and turns it, pushing the door open just a crack. "Mom?"_

 _Not a single sound comes from the bathroom, so Jasmine gathers her courage and pushes the door open the rest of the way. At first, the sight in front of her makes no sense. None at all. Her mother is asleep on the bathroom floor, laying in giant puddle of something … blood. Sweet Jesus, it's blood. The room spins around Jasmine, and she can't breathe. She opens her mouth, gasping for breath, but nothing comes._

 _She sinks to her knees, jeans soaking through, grabbing her Mother's shoulders and shaking her. Finally, air fills Jasmine's lungs again, and she screams. So much blood. Mom's blood. She won't wake up. She's dead. Oh, Jesus. Oh, God. She's dead. She's dead._

Some distant sound, something that didn't belong, not in the place with her mother's body, tore at her mind. A hiss, and then a low growl yanked Jasmine from sleep, hand wrapping around the pistol beneath her pillow before her eyes were all the way open, and she bolted upright on her bed. Frantic, confused, and with her pistol up, her gaze darted around the room, stalling on the giant turian looming in her doorway.

 _Turian? Ares. He's got his gun out. What …. Oh, God. Mom._

He lowered his gun, taking a hesitant step into her room, and she brought her pistol down to her lap. She saw him reach for something, but her vision wouldn't focus, and she realized she was crying, chest heaving. She let go of her pistol as he held something out to her, the light in the room too dim for her to tell what exactly, until she wrapped her hand around the familiar texture of Thane's shirt. She pulled the shirt to her, holding it against her chest.

Tears still stubbornly flowing down her face, she looked back at Ares. Licking her lips, she found her throat raw and dry, voice cracking when she said, "Sorry."

"For what? That shit happens." He tapped his own throat with a talon and rumbled softly. "You want some water for that?"

She nodded, licking her lips again. "Yes, please." She watched until he disappeared from view, then followed his movements, tracking the little sounds he made as he moved throughout her apartment. Half of them for her benefit, no doubt.

She took a deep breath, running a shaky hand through her hair before wiping at her eyes. Pushing herself to the edge of her bed, she glanced down at the shirt in her hand and smiled. She slipped Thane's shirt on over her tank top and brought the collar to her face, inhaling deeply as she stood. It didn't smell like him anymore, but it still eased something inside of her. Standing on weak legs, she made her way out of her room.

Having Ares around the last few days had been an exercise in patience—on both their parts. They kept different schedules, and even though the apartment was plenty big enough, they constantly seemed to be stepping on each other's toes. She'd grown used to spending days at a time with Thane, but the two men were polar opposites. Thane thrived on being accommodating to the extreme, anticipating her movements throughout the hotel room, learning her rhythms and her moods. If she was happy, he was happy, and for the most part, it worked in the opposite direction, too. But then again, she loved him and was getting laid pretty much every night. Having gone almost three weeks without him … she might be feeling a little extra tense.

And Ares … well, he turned out to be just as much of a grumpy ass as her first thing in the mornings. But still, she enjoyed having him around. He gave her someone to talk to, someone she could _really_ talk to, without fear of recourse. She got along well with Isaac, but there were some things she just couldn't tell him. Not yet at least, maybe never. Ares handled the real talk rather well, even if he didn't actually _say_ much. He might be prickly around the edges, but he didn't judge. And she had a lot of fun having him at her side in the arena. They were starting to adapt to one another, learning to anticipate each other's tactics in the fight, something she never really had much of before. Admittedly, she could learn a few things from him. Plus … he kept Isaac's attention diverted.

Ares turned from the sink, holding a glass of water and fluttered his mandibles when he saw her. With him shirtless and the light on in the kitchen, she saw just how badly the fire left him scarred. Knotted hide trailed down the entire left side of his body, spreading out over his chest and stomach, trailing down to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. Plates—what little remained—were distorted, mangled, worn thin. Tearing her gaze away, she offered him another smile and wiped at her face again, crossing over to climb up on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"I don't know how to make that other shit you drink, or I'd have offered it." Ares shrugged, handing her the glass before he turned back to fill one for himself.

She took a drink from the glass, holding the water against the back of her throat for a second before swallowing. "What time is it?"

"Zero two-hundred, Citadel standard time," Ares responded as he shut off the sink, turning around to lean his hip back against the counter. "Too late to sleep, and too early to get to work."

"Fuck me." Jasmine groaned, scrubbing her hand over her face. She sucked in a deep breath. "I'll live. Sorry if I woke you up."

"Not really." He took a deep drink from his glass before jerking his chin towards the still open balcony. "Though someone down below probably got hit with my cigarette."

She snorted, taking another drink. "Oops." Then she hummed, tilting her head to the side. "Give me one of those?" She didn't know if it would help settle her nerves the same way tobacco used to, but she was willing to give it a try. She _would not_ let herself start smoking all the time again. Just one. That was it.

Without speaking, Ares reached into his pocket as he set the glass down, freeing his other hand to search in the opposite pocket for his lighter. Pulling out the box, he held it out to her, and she took one of the black, strong smelling cigarettes. She put it between her lips, holding her hand out for the lighter. He circled the pad of his thumb over the worn engraving before tossing it over. Snatching it out of the air, she gave him a soft smile, knowing the fact he let her use the sentimental lighter carried weight; a symbol of his trust. She flipped open the top with her thumb before striking the flint wheel, the lighter sparked before the flame burst to life, in all its tiny glory. Not to say she didn't understand why he kept it turned down so low, one look at his scars, and it'd make sense to anyone. She held the cigarette to the fire and breathed in, pulling the flame through the tip of the cigarette before using her thumb to close the lid again.

"Thanks," she said, holding the lighter back out to him.

He took the it, lighting his own cigarette as he grunted out his words, "Don't mention it."

She took another drag from the heady cigarette, letting the smoke coat her tongue and throat, lingering in her lungs before letting it back out slow. "If this doesn't do the trick … don't suppose you'd want to spar?"

He lifted a brow plate, cigarette halfway to his mouth and thrummed. "You asking for a spar? With a man that usually takes his kills with his hands?"

She held his gaze for a moment, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I trust you to keep it to just sparring."

Chuckling, he blew smoke out towards the general direction of the open balcony door. "Alright, alright. I'll keep it strictly regulation."

She snorted, picking a loose piece of whatever the hell was in the cigarette off her tongue. "Doesn't have to be regulation, you just have to remember to pull your punches and not follow through with seriously damaging maneuvers."

"Yeah, regulation." He snorted and put the cigarette in his mouth. "I'm not _that_ boring as to keep the actual maneuvers regulation."

She smiled, wondering just what to expect from the turian. Wondering just what he expected from her. "We'll have to move furniture."

"I've heard that before."

Huffing, she shook her head. "You're really reaching there, aren't you?"

"Well, no." He blew out another heavy cloud of smoke. "I actually did have a girl who had such a small apartment that we had to move the furniture just for me to actually get where we could fuck."

She chuckled. "Was it worth it?"

Ares held his hand out, palm down, wiggling it back and forth with a shrug.

She huffed again, smiling as she took a drag. She couldn't say it did much to ease her tension, but it did make her lightheaded. She looked at the cigarette. "I'm not going to finish this, do you want to save it?"

Snorting, Ares moved to stand in front of her and took the cigarette. "I guess I'll just smoke them both then. Get a double dose of shortening my life," he said as he chuckled.

She laughed, watching him stick both cigarettes in his mouth. "Mhmm. Just don't claim it hinders your performance." She winked, sliding down off the stool. Lifting Thane's shirt back up over her head, she folded it and laid it on the counter.

"Even if I did, it'd only be to give the other men a chance," he said, his voice muffled from the cigarettes between his mouth plates.

She grinned, moving over into the living room. Stopping, she turned back to face him, stretching her arms out. "You get to move the heavy shit."

* * *

He took a long inhale to finish off his two cigarettes before dropping them into his glass of water and rounding the breakfast bar, moving into the living room. Looking around, he grabbed the couch by the end and dragged it towards the closest wall, pulling it flush. He picked up the small table and flipped it over, setting in on top of the cushions before pushing one of the plush chairs against the opposite wall. Its mate followed, creating a wall between the living room and the large glass windows overlooking the Strip.

Free to go over his own stretching, Ares rolled his shoulders, being sure to push against the tautness of his left. It loosened, and he could swear it almost felt like something pulled free as his range of motion broadened. Popping his neck, he turned to the sound of her returning from apparently being gone, her hair pulled back and up out of her face and way. He nodded, at least that shit had less of an opportunity to get in his face and mouth when they sparred.

"Ready? Any rules?" he asked, rumbling as he shifted on his feet enough to wake up the muscles in his legs. It was all something he did every morning anyway, but at least it worked to loosen up the scarring that might have tightened up from the adrenaline rush of hearing her thrashing and screaming in her sleep.

She shrugged falling into a stance he'd seen other humans use before, her hands up but not fisted, elbows tucked in against her sides. "No blood. Don't break anything. If I say stop, you stop."

All logical and reasonable requests, so Ares nodded. "Understood. No talons and no breaks. Safe word is 'stop.' Got it." He added his own rules when he saw her smile. "No mandible pulling or kicking directly on to my spurs." He was damn sure he'd have fallen victim to that very thing by the knowing grin on her face, but she did nod in agreement and gave a wave for him to approach.

He wanted to test the woman's training, to see if she'd stick to a strict set of a regiment or mix in some of that street fighting shit she used back in that alley that night. He was fine with either, well adapted to fighting in the streets from his many years picking fights in bars on every planet and station with a bar, but he knew those blows would have to be pulled coming from either of them. Street blows were always meant to inflict the most damage, not really practiced on each other. He might even get to see if that kind of fight only came out of her in the worst of situations or if she could control it.

He feinted with a punch from his left—remembering to curl his fingers inward to protect against his talons—and she flinched slightly in reaction but didn't directly move away from the false hit. Rumbling, he side-stepped slowly, and she followed so that, when he jerked forward and around to throw in a fast elbow strike with the intent to aim for her ribs, just behind her arm and situated below her shoulder blades, she bent into the hit, any damage to her ribs deflected against her arm. Her opposite hand shot up as she slipped closer and aimed a blow towards his solar plexus.

He turned into her move, and her blow missed her intended target as her hand grazed his abdomen. Shifting his footing, he kneed her while her arm was extended, but she spun into the movement, the move less direct than he was going to go for. She was close enough, back to his chest, that she tried to stomp on his instep, but the shift in her body gave her away. He slid his foot inward, waiting until her foot landed on the empty floor, then kicked his foot out as he leaned forward and looped an arm around her neck when she tried to compensate for the kick. Jasmine brought her hand up and dug her fingers into the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

Thrumming, he chuckled and backed up quickly, pulling on her neck. He found she quickly lost any interest in trying to get his fingers to release. Instead, she started jabbing with her elbows, aiming for his abdomen and groin. Pressed so close and her arms so short, her jabs didn't get the right affect. Ares turned and, with a jerk of his arm, threw her out of his grasp for the floor. Her ankle locked in the crook of his calf and spur, bringing him down with her, but he reacted fast and grabbed her ankle before she could yank her leg away and dragged her back in. Knowing she'd kick at him—because who wouldn't?—Ares turned into the kick so her foot landed on his cowl instead of her target.

He knocked her leg away and, remembering to pull his punch, dropped a fist to her abdomen. She saw the move coming and curled up, upper body lifting as her abdominal muscles tensed to lessen the blow. She grunted and tried to grab his arm, but he jerked it as if in a reverse punch, throwing her grasp away as he pinned the leg in his hand with his knee on her thigh, shifting his weight on it and the opposite knee at her side. For a shocking reason he couldn't quite figure, Jasmine rolled her hips despite his weight, a hiss erupting from behind her clenched teeth when he felt her muscles give under the weight of his knee as she pulled away. Bringing her free leg up, she kicked up towards his ribs as she rolled, but her foot only grazed as he got to his feet and just out of her reach.

Roll ending in a—very distracting—flexible move that got her on her feet, he moved before she could raise her fists up in defense again, charging her and leaning his shoulder down to ram into her then unstable side thanks to her injured leg. Wrapping an arm around her body, Ares felt her hand grip his crest tightly as she aimed the other towards his neck, but he let her have her blows before he slammed her against the wall opposite her bedroom, the hard surface and his own body pinning her in place. She grunted, head tucking into the safety of his cowl on impact, distracted enough for Ares to toss her hands off his head and grab for them, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist just below his ribs and squeezed.

He huffed in amusement and used his body to pin hers tighter against the wall and released her waist to wrap his hand around her throat. "Afraid this is where it would end." Just to further prove his point, he flexed his hand slightly to press the pads of his fingers against her skin.

Jasmine grinned under him, accepting that, it seemed, but said, "Again."

* * *

Her grin widened when he flicked a mandible at her and let her go. She dropped her legs, ready to slide back to the floor. He stepped away, turning his back to her as he moved to the center of the floor. In a real fight, she'd take the target given to her. Then again, in a real fight, she wouldn't have held back at all, and at least one of his mandibles would be dislocated, his spurs broken … and she'd probably have talon marks covering half her torso and throat. Instead of lunging after him while his back was turned, she pulled her leg up behind her, grabbing the top of her foot to stretch out her throbbing thigh. It'd be bruised for a few days, but she got her Hail Mary. If only she'd recovered fast enough to get out of his way when he charged. Rolling her head on her shoulders, she followed him back out, stopping just outside of his reach and brought her hands up.

"Ready?" She lifted an eyebrow.

He nodded, waving his hand at her, telling her to take the lead. She let her smile fade and shifted, circling to his left, moving into his blind side. As expected, he circled with her, his right eye tracking her movements. She took her time, keeping her distance for a moment as she sized him up, looking for any weaknesses beyond the obvious. Failing that, she let her gaze travel past him, taking an account of her surroundings, letting little pieces of tactics fall into place in her mind. With his mandibles and spurs out of the equation, and his face too high for her to reach unless he was already down, it didn't leave her much to work with. Not much she could safely pull off sparring, at least. She hated to do it, it seemed cruel, but his damaged hide and plates seemed like just about all he left her to target, the only real advantage she had against the swift giant. She shifted her gaze, taking in his right side again. She knew he was right dominant, leading with that side, so it'd make sense for her to stay to his left either way.

She darted forward, testing him, leading with a flurry of blows aimed at his sides and abdomen, meant to distract and push him back. She watched, ready for his arms to swing out, trying to grab her again or land his own punches, ready to dance back out of the way. He maneuvered with her, keeping her in sight of his right eye, blocking her blows, pushing her hands away, backing up only a step or two. She waited until he extended his right arm, slapping away one of her hits, before spinning her body around the outside of the arm, aiming a kick at his knee. He bent his leg into the kick, keeping her from catching the side of his knee, shifting his center of gravity off the leg as she hopped out of the way again. She kept moving, trying to get behind him just long enough to activate her cloak, knowing it wouldn't buy her much wiggle room, but maybe enough to get into his left.

Ares turned, moving with her, and she darted forward again, fist aimed for his solar plexus, swiftly followed by a foot aimed at his knee. He grabbed her wrist, taking the heel of her foot to his kneecap, and he grunted, leg buckling just enough to bring him closer to her level. He reared his head back, and she knew what was coming, but with his knee bent, she had a little leverage. Using it to push herself up, she lifted her body and turned, taking the headbutt meant for her face to her collarbone and shoulder instead, letting it push her back off and away from him with a hiss. Carrying through with the momentum, she wrenched her arm against his thumb, breaking his grip. She tried to put distance between them, but he stayed close, pressing in on her. She circled to his left, aiming an elbow at his side as she moved herself back away from the breakfast bar before he decided to rush her again, certain the horizontal edge of the bar would hurt far worse than being slammed into the wall.

He turned, dropping to take the blow to his carapace and made a grab for her ankle. She tried to hop out of the way, but his taloned fingers wrapped around her bare skin, so, she punched him in the face. He took the blow to his nose, grunting as he yanked. Expecting to fall on her ass, Jasmine twisted to her side, rolling with the fall and kicked out with her other foot. She grazed his cowl as he leaned to the side, grabbing her other ankle and pinning them both to the floor. She squirmed, pulling herself up to sitting, knees bent before he could dig his own knee into her again, and swiped at the left side of his face, hand cupped and aimed at his aural canal.

The blow landed, and he snarled, pivoting his body to bring his right leg down, shifting his center of gravity as he lifted his left knee up to brace against her ankles, pinning them down. He lashed out at her sternum. Jasmine twisted the best she could, no real choice but to take the hit, over-extended and without enough time to simply drop back—nor did she want to return to a position giving him more of a chance to pin her upper body. His fist grazed her breast and arm, bringing a hiss of pain through her teeth. She retaliated, ramming her knuckles into the nerve at the apex of his outstretched arm.

He hissed, and she she didn't see his left hand coming until it was too late. His fingers wrapped around her throat, tightening as she jerked her head back. She growled, knowing he didn't have the leverage he needed to make it a deadly move … yet. She turned her body, lifting her arm up ready to bring her elbow down on the side of his arm and break his grip, but he jerked her closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of her head as his knee shifted, moving between hers, parting her legs.

She froze. "Damn it. Again."

Ares chuckled, releasing her throat and pushing himself to his feet before holding out a hand to her. "You stink. Go shower so you're ready for your handler."

"You suck." She slapped her hand into his, letting him pull her to her feet.

He snorted when she let him go. "Right. And you'll probably thank me when you're doing whatever shit Ray will have you doing."

She huffed, wiping the back of her arm across her sweaty forehead. "Probably pretty much this. Only he'll kick my ass more, and in front of an audience."

"I'll admit I had to remember to pull most of my punches. Not used to sparring after so long." He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "You want a water?"

She nodded, lifting her shirt up enough to wipe her face, exposing her stomach and ribs, blocking him from her line of sight. "Yeah." She dropped her shirt, letting it fall back into place and crossed the floor to take the bottle of water he held out to her. She smiled up at him, leaning her back against the breakfast bar and opened the bottle. "Thanks … that helped."

"Good." He hummed and opened his bottle, lifting it to his mouth but paused. "I won't be joining you in your training today."

She sucked on her teeth. "Well, no. Even if you wanted to, I'm pretty sure the Alliance training facility isn't on the top of your list of places to visit, nor Ray's list of places to take you."

Ares made a dejected sounding trill. "I'm hurt. I thought you'd actually miss me, but it seems I was sorely mistaken."

She snorted. "I will miss you. Miss you not laughing at me when he tosses my ass onto the mat. That motherfucker is fast and has moves I've never seen."

He shrugged before lowering the bottle from his mouth and swallowing. "He wouldn't be a fit handler if he _couldn't_ kick your ass."

"Yeah," she said, waving a hand, "but I mean with Leon … maybe it just came with really knowing how he moved, but I could at least hold my own—sorta. He was big though. Built like a bear. Ah, you probably don't know what a bear is … built more like a krogan."

He grunted and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Like I said, he was a shit handler. You're not supposed to give them a run for their credits. If you learn their techniques and can adapt, you need to move to the next instructor."

She bristled a little. "He must not have been too shitty, I'm still alive, and my targets are dead. I may not have the same years of experience as you, but I'm good at my job."

"From what I've seen, I agree." Ares emptied his bottle of water and tossed it into the trash. "Don't take blame for what your handler did or didn't do, you learned it well enough without him. I figure it's from your own hunt after the drell, only not with the intent to kill him, but be his better." He shrugged. "And I only have years because I'm an old bastard compared to you. Doesn't necessarily count."

She snorted, turning the bottle cap over in her hand. "Nice save, but we both know it does count. As for … Tannor," she snorted again, shaking her head, "I'll never be his better, but I'll be happy to be his equal, or even close." She glanced up at Ares. "Don't you ever tell him I said so."

"Do we look like the conversational type with each other?" He gestured to himself with a hand to his chest. "The drell doesn't like me, so I'm fine knowing him by association."

She put the bottle on the counter before pressing her palms into it and pushed herself up, taking a seat on the breakfast bar. "It's not that he doesn't like you so much as he doesn't know you, and … he thought you might hurt me." She pursed her lips. "Although, you two are pretty much on opposite ends of the personality spectrum, so I can't exactly see you becoming best friends anytime soon, but you two could get along."

Ares stayed quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. "Did you just put your sweaty ass on the counter? Where people eat?"

She grinned, leaning over to wrap her arm around his shoulders, wiping her sweat off on him. "Yep. My place, my rules."

"Well, that's going to be distracting …." Ares lifted her arm with his thumb and forefinger. "How can I concentrate with your scent all over me now?"

She scoffed. "According to you, turians learn to ignore that shit." While he dropped her arm, she darted forward, pressing her lips to his temple in a loud smack of a kiss before hopping down off the counter. Laughing, she turned, backing away from him.

Ares grumbled, lifting his gaze to the ceiling before looking back down. "Everyday scents are different from pheromone rich sweat. I smell like we got pretty hot and heavy, but interrupted before the final act. And I didn't even get any of that."

She snorted, grabbing Thane's shirt from the breakfast bar. "Please." Turning, she headed to her bedroom. "I didn't even get _that_ turned on." Glancing over her shoulder, flashing her teeth at him in a grin, she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.

As soon as she was alone, her smile faded. She brought Thane's shirt to her face, breathing in deep. Damn it, she missed him. She hung the shirt over the corner of her headboard, right back where it came from, and stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes, tossing them in the corner to deal with later. Making her way into the bathroom, she turned on her shower, letting her thoughts drift as she poked around the edges of the empty hole she felt inside, like a tongue worrying a loose tooth. She'd told Ares sparring with him helped, and it had, just not enough.

Stepping under the hot water, she groaned, turning her face up to the spray. If everything went according to plan, they'd kill Remitun tomorrow and save the Alliance from whatever scandalous thing contained within the information he stole. Then, Ares would leave, and she'd be alone again, no one to keep her from her own troubling thoughts but Isaac.

Turning her face away from the water, she sighed, reminded of the look on Isaac's face as he doled out her punishment for taking lives that weren't hers to take. All things considered, he proved far, far nicer about the whole thing than she had any right to expect. Yet somehow, he chose to discipline her in the one way able to hurt her the most. Forcing her to focus her mental energy on the men assured she'd beat herself up over it, and sure enough, she did, several times a day.

She'd looked into the men, finding their families and friends, just as Isaac told her to. She memorized their names and faces, and the faces of those who cared about them the most. She said their names over and over to herself in the moments of silence. Michael Raston, the man whose neck Ares snapped. Abdul Hassim, the man she shot. Canton Hanover, his throat was sliced open by Ares' blade. Raymond Anders—she tasted the irony in that one somewhere—the one she called Red and knocked out with the butt of her pistol, even though she'd been so offended when Leon did the same to her. Last but not least, the Leon-eque of a man she brutalized, Kenneth Anders, brother to Raymond. How the hell would she ever find a way to pay restitution to the loved ones of the dead?

She hoped whatever Isaac said or did to silence the men had a lasting effect. At least long enough for her to finish her job and be reassigned somewhere off the Citadel. Otherwise, she had a feeling she'd be seeing a lot more of one C-Sec Officer Garrus Vakarian, and if Ares thought it'd be awkward to play wingman for Garrus and Jasmine, he sure as hell wouldn't like it if she had to kill his cousin to save her own ass.


End file.
